


Molten Glass Hearts

by Januarium



Series: Arts and Crafts [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: (but in an AU way a bit), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Art, Best Friends Stevie Budd & David Rose, But really more like, Cats, Crafts, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Fall Vibes, Fluff and Humor, Glassblower!Patrick, I just felt like y'all needed to know, Irritated to Idiots, Knitting, M/M, POV Alternating, Patrick has an undercut, Phone Sex, Post-Canon, Rough Sex, Sexting, Smut, Sort of? - Freeform, idk it's about MAKING ART and BICKERING and FUCKING and FEELINGS and FRIENDSHIP, oh and TROLLING ofc because duh, trying to live ethically under capitalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 66,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Januarium/pseuds/Januarium
Summary: “Ugh!” David shouts, trying to figure out how to explain how utterly maddening this man was. “Yes, he was polite, Iguess,but the way he said it was like—" he lets out a noise of frustration “—you know that fucking emoji of the moon?”“The one with that condescending smile that looks like it probably just did a really bad fart and is proud of it?”“Yes!” David points so forcefully at Stevie that he almost falls off the couch. “He may have said politewordsbut his expression was pure stinky-fart-moon-face!”Stevie makes a noise of disgust. “I hate that fucking emoji.”David meets Patrick Brewer, a glassblower, at the Elmington Craft Fair and loves his work, but wishes it didn’t come attached to someone so condescending. Not that it matters, because apparently Patrick has no interest in becoming part of the Rose Apothecary brand. It wouldn’t be nearly so annoying if Patrick’s best friend wasn’t about to be David’s newest vendor.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer & Rachel, Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Series: Arts and Crafts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029411
Comments: 638
Kudos: 535





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here we are, my latest labour of love! I'd like to thank nontoxic, who held my hand every step of the way of my writing this, and allowed me to scream at her and send her snippets pretty much constantly. Huge thanks to my dear singsongsung, RhetoricalQuestions and lokifan for beta-ing this and to everyone who listened to me whine about it the the past couple of months. And thanks to High-Seas-Swan for help with banner and RhetoricalQuestions for finishing it!
> 
> The tags relate to the whole fic, no smut in the first chapter but all the others have at least a sprinkling. The story is 60k+ and complete, with some light editing still to do. I plan to post M-W-F (obviously starting on a W!), so the last chapter should be posted on November 27.
> 
> The title is from [this poem](https://www.yourquote.in/bithika-halder-hcup/quotes/they-make-brittle-homes-molten-glass-hearts-hands-skillful-jltgt) by Bithika Halder.

The fact is, most vendors who come to these markets are people whose wares aren’t good enough for the Rose Apothecary brand. Or sometimes, people he already works with, but selling items they’ve already established don’t work for his store. There are occasionally interesting people, such as Gwen with her hand-stitched leather goods which are—well, actually pretty nice, but not quite within the current scope of the brand. David tries to be friendly to her, though, because maybe one day.

This means it always catches his attention when someone new shows up. Doris, who makes ugly custom cross-stitch coasters of people’s pets, has the stall to the right of David at the Elmington Craft Fair. He hasn’t even set up yet when she says, “Have you heard about the new glass artist?”

David perks up at that and turns to actually pay attention to Doris, rather than half-listening to her while fussing over the layout of his products. “I haven’t, tell me more!” he says, in his ‘charming the locals’ voice, because Doris’ products may be awful, but she’s very close to a couple of his vendors and he can’t afford to get on her bad side. He’s long been fascinated by glasswork, but hasn’t found anyone making it locally worth approaching. There had been the hand-blown glass Venetian masks but Stevie had talked him out of those and the artist left the area, anyway. 

“He’s a charming young man, makes the most _interesting_ items. He’s set up just down there.” She points to the opposite corner of the hall. 

David had managed to charm Judith, who put this together, into giving him a spot near the entrance, for optimum foot traffic and catching people while they’re still hyped to buy things.

This is one of the larger markets, with people especially excited for summer to finally be winding down, so David can see the glass artist’s stall but not a lot of details. He thanks Doris for the information and makes a mental note to try and get a look at this artist’s work and consider if he might work as a vendor.

Annoyingly, he has to work this market alone. Usually he manages to convince Stevie to come with him. It used to be he’d have his choice of her, Alexis, or his girlfriend he could convince to help him out at these events, but Alexis moved to New York a year ago and David and Heather broke up a bit before that. Work is busy enough for Stevie at the moment that she couldn’t spare the day. He has a part-time sales assistant for the store, Neff, but he couldn’t afford to close down for the day, so they are manning the register back in Schitt’s Creek.

It’s busy, which is good but exhausting. He’s glad Stevie stuck an extra bottle of water in his bag, because he’s talking so much that his throat is totally drying out. It does, however, mean he needs to pee by a few hours into the market. Luckily, he’s friendly with Allison on the stall to his left—an artist who makes various sculptures out of found objects—so they agree to a mutual plan to watch each other’s stalls for bathroom breaks.

He likes Allison a lot and is always happy to be near her. He’s often wished he had the capacity to work with more traditional artists like her, but he just doesn’t have the space within the store for things like that. He still hates having to call in the favour, despite her having already gone, but when he realises he’s on the verge of doing the need-to-pee dance he makes himself ask.

He’s as quick as possible, trying to avoid the crush of people and all the crowded-in tables, but he makes sure to swing past the glass artist’s stall to get a quick look and the work is _gorgeous_. There’s a few more abstract pieces, which he is totally fascinated by, but wouldn’t really make sense for the store. On the other hand, there are also some practical items, like vases and carafes, that would be perfect. David can’t see anyone behind the stall, but he starts thinking about his pitch as he continues towards the restrooms.

He’s thinking so hard that when he finally makes it past the crowd he walks right into someone. They crash into each other hard, but both remain standing and David can’t help his instinct to say, “Excuse you,” in his bitchiest tone, even though it was probably his fault. He’s gotten really good at putting that side of him away at these events, where everyone is a potential customer or vendor, but caught off-guard he still reverts.

The person he ran into is a white guy, slightly shorter than David, wearing a clearly hand-knit sweater, in variegated blue yarn with a gorgeous drape. It has a fascinating stitch pattern that makes David want to get up close and figure out how it was done. The guy clears his throat and David realises his gaze never made it all the way up. This stranger has an undercut with a mess of curls on the top of his head, big eyes, and a pissed off look on his face. “I mean, I’d have gone with ‘sorry’, but sure, I’ll excuse myself,” he says, in an appallingly dismissive tone of voice and then steps around David and into the crush of people. 

David _hates_ someone else getting the last word, but not only is the guy gone, David still very much needs to pee and get back to his stall. He does his best to return to his personable and charming work-self but by the time he gets back to his stand he’s still feeling more snappy than he’d like. Luckily, telling people about the store and the products he sells is one of his favourite things to do, so he quickly gets back into the groove. 

The rest of the day is busy and David manages to shift more product than he was expecting, so he’s in a good mood when they finally get the last visitor out the door and start packing up. David’s nearly forgotten about the glass artist, but he catches sight of the stall as he’s looking around to see the mood of the room. Glass should take time to pack away, but David’s nearly always one of the last people out at these things. He doesn’t want to miss his chance, so he asks Allison to keep an eye out, just in case, gives himself a little shake to get into wooing mode, and crosses the floor. 

There’s no one at the stall again when he gets there, but the few items that haven’t been packed away or sold are even more beautiful than he’d thought on his first look. There’s one small statue in particular that he wants to get a better look at, but before he can pick it up a sarcastic voice says, “ _Excuse_ me, but the fair is closed.”

David practically jumps in surprise and is very glad he wasn’t touching any of the beautiful glasswork. He looks up, all ready to pitch the hell out of this artist, when he realises it’s the guy from outside the bathroom and his whole spiel falls right out of his head. “Hi, I’m Rose Apothecary—I mean, I’m David, I run Rose Apothecary.” His hand is performing an embarrassing little wave and he doesn’t seem to be able to stop it.

The man looks amused in a totally condescending way. “I’m Patrick Brewer.” He sticks his hand out and David shakes it, trying not to show on his face that he’s both relieved to have something to do with his hand and pissed off that he didn’t think to do it first. Patrick’s handshake is firm; his skin is calloused, and David is pretty sure he can feel multiple burn scars. David’s fingers brush the edge of the sweater he noticed earlier. It’s incredibly soft; maybe a merino-silk mix?

The handshake goes on just a little too long and David pulls his hand back _way_ too fast when he realises. Patrick looks amused in a way that digs into David a little, makes him want to raise his hackles, but… he really does love the items.

“So, is this _your_ work?” he asks, almost but not quite managing his ‘charm the vendors’ voice.

Patrick raises his eyebrows and looks pointedly down at the table, where David can now see a sign that reads ‘Patrick Brewer, glass artist’. “Yup, all me.”

David winces at having missed that, because he’s fucking useless at controlling his face when he’s wrong-footed like this. “It’s gorgeous. Do you do one-of-a-kind pieces, or more mass production?” David immediately regrets the word choice—none of these vendors like the idea that their work is like something mass-produced.

Before he can try and fix it Patrick says, “It’s hand-blown glass, so every piece is one of a kind by nature.” His tone is patronising and it’s clear he’s running out of patience.

“Of course it is!” David blurts, trying to think how to save this. “Well, as I said, I run Rose Apothecary; we’re a sort of very specific general store based in Schitt’s Creek working with local artisans and crafters.” 

David smiles and waits for Patrick to ask him for more information, but he just nods and says, “Uh huh, that’s nice,” before working to pack away the remaining items. 

David’s impressed by how quickly he’s getting them covered in bubble wrap and placed into boxes—Patrick clearly knows exactly how to handle the delicate glass work and does so with confidence. It’s sort of entrancing, watching Patrick’s hands (and yes, David can now see the scars he’d felt) quickly wrapping and taping and moving on to the next items. Which is why David realises he’s been standing there staring for too long and shakes himself out of it.

“Right! Well, I was wondering if there was any chance you might be interested in talking about the potential of working with us”—David always says ‘us’, it makes it all sound so much more official—“and getting your products into wider circulation.” Fuck, he should have got his card out already, now he has to fiddle around in his pockets to get the card holder and looks like a total amateur.

Patrick glances at him from the corner of his eye with a small smug smile. “No thanks.” He then lifts up the box he’s been filling. “Need to get this to the car,” he says and walks right past David.

David’s left blinking, with his card finally in his hand, for an embarrassingly long time. He notices Alice of ‘Alice’s Animals’ looking amused and he’s pretty sure he’s the focus of it, which is ridiculous. A woman who makes ugly taxidermied animals dressed to look like ‘80s pop stars has no right to look amused at _him_. David flicks his business card vaguely in the direction of Patrick’s table because somehow putting it away feels even more humiliating and stomps back to his stall.

“Oh, were you talking to the new glass artist I mentioned?” Doris asks. “Isn’t he such a nice, _polite_ young man?”

David does not scream, which he feels shows admirable restraint. “Mmhm!” he replies, doing his best to get all his remaining product and associated paraphernalia packed away as soon as possible. He can’t help but notice every time Patrick Brewer walks back and forth with another box—always one at a time—he doesn’t move how David would if it were him carrying all that glass. He moves confidently and surely; clearly looking where he’s going, but not nervous about it. It somehow annoys David even more, because he’s acting like there’s no chance someone might just walk into him, which is obviously untrue. David walked into him!

All this observation also means he notices when Patrick makes a return trip and is no longer wearing the blue sweater. Instead he’s down to a thin white undershirt which clings to the muscles of his shoulders and chest. David doesn’t even realise he’s staring until he hears Allison to his left say, “ _Damn_.”

He pulls his gaze away from Patrick to give her a look and she laughs. “Listen, I may be an old married lesbian, but I can still appreciate a nice set of shoulders.”

David has to give her that one—they are an _infuriatingly_ nice set of shoulders and David is suddenly reminded how physical glass blowing is. By the time he blinks himself out of imagining Patrick drawing molten glass in and out of a hot fire, chest heaving and sweaty, Patrick’s already on his way back out with the next box. David is distracted from his back muscles by the realisation of quite how tight his jeans—Levi’s, which is _almost_ acceptable—are. Someone so irritating should not be allowed to have an ass like that.

He catches Allison’s eye as they both look away and holds up a hand—“I don’t want to hear it!”—but she still manages a look that speaks a thousand words.

David doesn’t realise he was waiting for Patrick to come back until he notices how long it has been since his last trip. He looks over and can see the stall where he’d been is all cleared out. David pushes down the silly spike of disappointment and makes himself concentrate on getting out of here at a reasonable hour. It still takes twice as long as usual before he’s in his car.

***

“And he just said ‘no thanks’!” David exclaims, waving his hands to emphasise the point. He and Stevie are curled up on their couch drinking whiskey while he fills her in on his day.

“So you’re just pissed he politely turned you down?” Stevie asks, looking unimpressed. She clearly doesn’t get it.

“Ugh!” David shouts, trying to figure out how to explain how utterly maddening this man was. “Yes, he was polite, I _guess,_ but the way he said it was like—" he lets out a noise of frustration “—you know that fucking emoji of the moon?”

“The one with that condescending smile that looks like it probably just did a really bad fart and is proud of it?”

“Yes!” David points so forcefully at Stevie that he almost falls off the couch. “He may have said polite _words_ but his expression was pure stinky-fart-moon-face!”

Stevie makes a noise of disgust. “I hate that fucking emoji.” 

David nods emphatically. “So you see my point!”

“You do know that just because someone doesn’t want to work with you it doesn’t make them a bad person, right?”

“Where is your evidence of that?” he replies, mostly to make Stevie laugh. He’s about to continue his rant when he spots their cat, Butterfly, walking into the room. “You’d never say anything so offensive to me, would you, gorgeous?” 

Butterfly looks at him with utter disdain and jumps onto Stevie’s side of the sofa. She’s black and white, with long fur that gets everywhere—despite David brushing her every day—a squished up face, and a total lack of respect for all humans. David would die for her.

Stevie cackles at him and scratches Butterfly behind the ears, which is her favourite. Their cat doesn’t generally do lap sitting, but she likes lying near enough to get fussed over. “You know if Bug could speak she’d read us to filth,” Stevie says and David has to give her that one.

It’s been almost a year since David’s family moved away from Schitt’s Creek, while David stayed behind. It had been a hard choice—as soon as he heard they were all planning on moving to New York, David had got lost in fantasies of joining them. Then he found out Stevie was staying because Ray had come to Rose Apothecary for his regular supply of herbal tea and mentioned Stevie had asked about local rental listings for the two of them.

It had been a hard choice, especially as things shifted and it became clear that if he stayed, his sister Alexis would be moving on her own. Once Stevie had pointed out a few hard truths to David about what his life in New York had really been like, he’d had to admit that while the move was what he _should_ want, it ultimately wasn’t what he _did_ want. 

He loved his store so much and it wouldn’t be the same to transfer it. It wasn’t just the store, anyway; it was the life and friends he had built up here. Even now, after four years in Schitt’s Creek, David can’t bring himself to say it out loud, but he loves it here. Even if sometimes he has to deal with shitty passive-aggressive artists—if anything, that reminds him why he didn’t move back to New York.

His romantic relationship had burned itself out not long before his family moved away and he’s privately proud of himself that he didn’t use that as an excuse to run away from a life he loved. David had started dating Heather Warner a few months after Ted broke up with her. It had been awkward at first, dating a woman someone had dumped in order to be with his sister, but something between them had really clicked. They were both very busy, but the spark between them was electric and they could talk for hours. 

However, the thing was, they weren’t really prioritising each other. What they’d had ran its course, which was a new experience for David—coming out of a relationship feeling positive about the overall experience and that it wasn’t wasted time. David had learned a lot from dating an actual grown up who treated David like he was one, too. Plus, they’d had some truly spectacular sex. 

Butterfly jumps off the arm of the chair over Stevie’s lap so that she’s between the two of them, looking at David pointedly. He scratches her head and she immediately flops down and starts purring. She had come into their lives a few months into them living together, near the beginning of the year. One of David’s vendors had admitted she was getting a bit too old to look after her cat and asked if he knew anyone who might be interested.

David had spent most of his life feeling like he could barely look after himself, so hadn’t even considered they might take on a pet, but Stevie had lit up when he’d asked if she might know anyone. Apparently his best friend had been a secret cat person all along. David had agreed to meeting the cat at the very least, figuring he could still talk Stevie out of it, but it had been love at first sight the moment he laid eyes on her.

Stevie had argued that they would have to rename her, “ _It’s way too cutesy! I can’t believe you want to have a cat named after a_ bug _, David!_ ”

David had argued that a butterfly wasn’t just a bug, but also “ _one of nature’s most beautiful creatures and also a_ seminal _Mariah album_.” Eventually a compromise was reached: David calls her Butterfly—her _actual_ name—and Stevie calls her Bug.

“So, are you going to follow up with this glass guy?” Stevie doesn’t even appear to be asking just to tease him about it, but he can’t deal with reliving the embarrassment any more.

“Ugh, can we stop talking about him; I’d prefer to forget he exists.”

Stevie rolls her eyes, which is fair because David was the one to mention him in the first place, but he is so _over_ the whole thing now. Luckily, she’s willing to drop it. “Ugh, fine. Have I told you about the guy who tried to secure his check-in with a library card? I swear to God, some people think I’m an idiot.”

David hasn’t heard about that yet, so he signals her to go on. Stevie is excellent at turning terrible motel guests into funny stories so it manages to distract him for a while. That night, however, he can’t help getting out his phone and googling every variation of ‘Patrick Brewer glass art Ontario’ he can think of. There are no useful results—it’s practically suspicious! David goes to sleep that night with his mind filled with strong shoulders, scarred hands, and an amused smile.

***

David _hates_ being late for vendor visits. It’s a personal rule of his; the vendors are the core of his business, without them there is no store, so he treats them with respect. It makes him feel nauseous when he thinks about how arriving late was a power-play he used to swear by when dealing with artists for his galleries. It’s been long enough now that the sting of knowing that his parents had paid off everyone involved has somewhat lessened, but thinking of how he used to approach business feels like someone else’s life.

All of which is why he’s really fucking frustrated to have woken up to find a flat tire on the Lincoln. Stevie’s taken her car on a site visit a few hours away, so he can’t even borrow hers. He sends a message to the vendor explaining the delay and calls Bob. 

Bob, of course, seems utterly delighted when he turns up. He jogs from his truck to the Lincoln with his hands flapping in that way he has that is disturbingly reminiscent of Alexis. “What seems to be the issue here?”

David holds his face tense in an attempt not to roll his eyes. “Just a flat tire, as I said on the phone.”

Bob nods and claps his hands together. “Right, right, and you don’t have a spare?”

David frowns and gestures at the trunk of the car, where he feels he has been very generous in removing the thingy covering the spare tire so it’s accessible. “Um, yes, it’s right there?”

Bob looks confused and then terribly sad. “Well, I guess your dad wasn’t really the type to teach you that sort of thing, was he?” He clasps David’s shoulder like he’s trying to comfort him. “Well, it’ll take a day for a proper replacement to come in, so how about I teach you how to install a spare tire?”

David’s dad had, in fact, once attempted to teach him how to replace a tire when he was seventeen. David—who’d been somewhere between hungover and still buzzing—had puked about five minutes into the explanation. He’d managed to convince his dad he was allergic to manual labour and that was the end of _that_ attempt at bonding.

He’s about to explain this allergy to Bob when he comes to an appalling realisation: he spends a lot of his time driving to rural places with little-to-no cell signal. It would probably be a really fucking useful life skill to have. Ugh.

“I’m going to need to change,” David says. He knows he’s lived in this damn town too long when Bob’s bright smile makes him think _Wow, I don’t think I’ve seen him look that happy since Gwen left._

***

Changing a tire turns out to be not that difficult at all and David feels a little silly that he’s avoided learning so vociferously in twenty (ew) years of driving. He reminds himself reassuringly that it’s only been around three years of _licensed_ driving, so the rest hardly counts. Bob assures him before leaving that David should be fine driving on the spare until the correct replacement comes in.

The vendor had replied saying that as long as he got there by eleven she could still meet with him. Looking at the time now, it’s clear that he either cancels on her and goes inside to shower and recover from the ordeal, or he leaves now and has to meet with her while wearing clothes marked with actual _grease stains_. David has owned clothes artistically dyed to look greased stained, of course, but never before has he come by them honestly.

It has been difficult to get hold of this vendor, though, and he really wants some more local yarn in the store. Relatively early on in the life of Rose Apothecary, when David had been at the cafe complaining to Stevie that he needed to figure out some events to get people into the store, Twyla had interrupted to suggest a ‘Stitch and Bitch’. Thus had begun David’s love affair with fibre arts. 

He’d found this spinner by luck on one of his many online trawls through Etsy, Facebook Marketplace, and local sites to see if there were any interesting things happening locally he didn’t know about. Someone on NextDoor had linked to a blog of someone spinning and dyeing yarn right in Elm County.

It had taken weeks to get this appointment booked in. David can’t miss it. _Fuck._ Maybe if he’s fast he’ll be able to stop somewhere on the way?

***

He doesn’t make good time. When he finally gets there it’s almost the time she said was the latest she could start the meeting. He knocks on the door, doing his best to smile like an approachable, relaxed professional person—someone anyone would want to go into business with. The door opens and David feels every muscle in his body suddenly freeze up. Because the person who opened the door is the glass artist who totally dismissed him a week ago. Patrick Brewer.

“Ah, you finally made it,” he says, like David is supposed to have expected him. David is pretty certain that his appointment is supposed to be with Rachel Atkinson, not Patrick Brewer. He crosses his arms across his chest in what is probably supposed to be a show of intimidation. 

It’s annoying on multiple levels, including the fact that it really highlights his arm muscles. They’re better than David remembered. David had tried really hard to convince himself that Patrick wasn’t incredibly attractive and he doesn’t appreciate all of his hard work being swept away the instant he saw him again. Even worse, he can tell that Patrick has noticed David’s interest. It’s in the tilt of his hips, the spark in his eyes.

“As I said in my message, I had a flat tire.” David vaguely gestures at his appearance and adds, “I got here as fast as I could, you can probably tell.”

Patrick’s eyes glide down David’s body and okay, even from a douche like this, David enjoys the obvious appreciation in that gaze as it takes in his tight t-shirt and ripped jeans. The moment’s even more intense when their eyes meet again; he wasn’t prepared to see Patrick, let alone feel like they could start making out at any moment. Before either of them say any more a small red-headed woman appears, pushing Patrick out of the way and breaking the tension. 

“Oh my god, David! I was so sorry to hear about your car, I hope you’re okay! I’m Rachel, by the way, come in.” All this is said quickly and David doesn’t have a chance to reply to any of it before she’s moving away into the room.

He follows, glancing at Patrick who waits until David is in before closing the door and following behind. “I really am so sorry about the delay and turning up such a mess, Rachel. Thanks for being so understanding.”

Rachel looks at him like he’s nuts. “Seriously, don’t worry, it happens to all of us.”

He can’t help a significant look at Patrick, who still doesn’t look very happy with David.

“Oh god, that’s Patrick, you can ignore him—he thinks anyone who turns up late is making a power-play,” Rachel says and David is so glad she turns away because he doesn’t know if he avoids wincing.

“Oh god, really not that,” David says, knowing his hands are moving too much because he’s nervous. “There’s nothing more important to my business than supporting vendors—the store doesn’t exist without people like you! I hate when people try to manipulate people.” He may be a tad _too_ emphatic at the end, but he catches a considering look on Patrick’s face.

“That’s great to hear,” she says, before gesturing to a dining table which is half covered in piles of miscellanea and half slightly more organised, with some yarn and papers. “Please take a seat so we can chat.”

David looks down at himself and winces. “Could I possibly have just five minutes to freshen up?”

Rachel smiles with her whole face, like she doesn’t even care how vulnerable that makes her. “Of course, the bathroom's just down the hall.”

David takes a few seconds to breathe before gritting his teeth and accepting he needs to put on his change of clothes without showering. He hates doing that. At least he has the spare outfit, which he keeps in his car. He sets a timer for four and a half minutes and gets to work—no way is he proving Patrick right by taking his time, even if it goes against every fibre of his being to rush like this after the morning he’s had.

He’s done just in time to stop the timer going off; one last look in the mirror and he returns to the living room. The response is admittedly gratifying, both Patrick and Rachel giving him once-overs they don’t do a great job of hiding.

“Wow, when you said freshen up I didn’t expect this!” Rachel says, gesturing to his new outfit.

David does a little curtsy in thanks. “Well, I didn’t want to have a business discussion in a dirty t-shirt and luckily I had some McQueen in the car.” It’s his grey sweater with birds covering it, which he’d actually feared was lost in the move. It makes a sort of sense he’d packed it into his car bag, though; if there was an emergency requiring a change of clothes he’d want something a bit special to help get over it.

Rachel laughs, but like she’s charmed rather than thinking it’s funny he has a cache of designer clothes in the trunk of his car. Patrick’s expression, on the other hand, is disdainful.

He sits in the chair at the dining table Rachel gestures to—she and Patrick are already seated. “So, Patrick, where do you fit into this?” he can’t help but ask.

“I’m Rachel’s business manager,” Patrick replies firmly, though there is the slightest hint of humour in his eyes that David doesn’t know how to take. Business manager? He’s certainly dressed much more business casual today; he’s in a blue button-up with his curls more tamed, but it still strikes David as surprising.

Rachel huffs. “Patrick’s a _friend_ and is helping me decide if I am interested in taking up this hobby professionally, but all business dealings will be with _me_ , thank you very much.”

David nods a few too many times, sensing he has stepped into some sort of tension he doesn’t want to deal with. “Of course, it’s always great to have someone on your side,” he says, even though the vendor dealings involving things like ‘business managers’ tend to be more stressful affairs. If he’d known what sort of meeting this was, he’d probably have moved it rather than turn up a mess. At least he’d managed to get changed, he feels so much more in control of the situation in these clothes.

“So, what exactly are you proposing today, David?” Rachel asks, looking genuinely excited.

David does his best to focus solely on her as he replies; he’s gotten very good at this pitch, which had been a total mess when he started. “Rose Apothecary is a general store that focuses on locally made products and crafts. We work with vendors all across the area, whose products are sold on consignment all under the Rose Apothecary brand.”

“Don’t you think that taking other people’s work and then re-branding it as your own is kind of a slap in the face to the people doing that work for you?” Patrick asks. 

It’s not actually the first time David has been asked this question, so he doesn’t shy from meeting Patrick’s eye—backing down here would make it look like he thinks he’s doing something wrong. Patrick doesn’t look as annoyed as David might have expected, more anticipatory.

“Of course that’s an understandable concern, but I work closely with vendors to make sure that what we have is a true partnership. I also have profiles on all vendors on our website and in a booklet available in store, plus I talk to our customers about the people who made the products they purchase. Additionally, all products have a label somewhere on them giving information on the vendor.”

“Oh, that sounds great—” Rachel says, before Patrick cuts in.

“Why not just let them exist as separate ‘brands’, instead of homogenising everything?”

David does his best to maintain his sweet smile, despite the way Patrick said ‘brand’ like it’s a dirty word. He’d once managed to convince the Irish garda that Alexis had diplomatic immunity; he can deal with a snippy glass artist. “By selling everything under the Rose Apothecary brand I can assure my customer base get a cohesive experience and can trust the quality control in place. Many of my vendors have no interest in developing their own brands, anyway, with the level of marketing and time that goes into that. This way we have a mutually beneficial relationship, which allows them to focus on what they actually want to be doing.”

Rachel claps a single time, making David realise that he was completely focused on Patrick, fuck. He tries to appear casual in redirecting his attention to her as she speaks. “That actually sounds ideal for me. I started the blog because I like talking about the process, but I have no interest in all the crap involved in trying to actually sell anything. I’m just worried about being able to produce enough yarn.”

David smiles; it seems Rachel herself is definitely interested, despite the still-skeptical look on Patrick’s face. “We sell from a few different fibre artists at different stock levels depending on their process. With you, I was thinking we could consider doing a monthly limited-edition yarn? We have a Stitch and Bitch twice a month, so there’s always interest. Could maybe even pair it with a knitting pattern designed to highlight the yarn.”

“Oh, I don’t design patterns, sorry.” Rachel sounds sheepish, as if what she does—taking piles of fluff and turning it into string that people can make beautiful things out of—isn’t enough.

“I actually do some pattern design?” David still feels nervous talking about this, especially in front of two people he doesn’t know well who make such amazing things. “So if you’re interested in collaborating that way, I could buy some yarn from you now and develop a sample pattern while we figure out the rest of the plan.”

David’s been knitting for a few years now and he could never help but tweak patterns from the moment he understood how it all worked. When you can read a pattern and understand it, you can change it. It hadn’t taken long for him to be working out his own designs from scratch. He hasn’t published any yet, but he’s been thinking about it and there’s something about Rachel that makes him think this could work. And, well, okay, maybe a part of him wants to show off to Patrick a bit as well. That implication he’s stealing people’s work stings, even if he’s heard it before.

“Are you sure you don’t want to actually, you know, see the yarn before you say things like that?” Rachel says, her voice teasing, but not in a cruel way.

David is very proud of himself that he doesn’t hide his face in his hands in embarrassment as he replies. “Oh, yes, please, of course.” He’s been so wrong-footed and trying to show he’s not taking advantage he hasn’t even covered the basics. Normally he would warm them up by looking at their products, getting a sense for if they would fit in the store while working in some flattery. He’s done this long enough it should be second-nature, but apparently not today. 

Patrick and Rachel are clearly amused, but David only resents it from Patrick. The expression is pretty cute on both of them, but he’s not thinking about that right now. Rachel reaches forward for the basket of yarn on the table and goes through the different skeins. They’re even more gorgeous than the photos had shown and David is really impressed with the evenness of her work. Part of the joy of hand-spun is in it not being totally uniform, but this is great work—not the type that would only work with very specific patterns designed to compensate for variable yarn.

The last one in the basket is a small cake of yarn in variegated blues. “This one’s a silk and merino blend,” she explains, as David touches the impossibly soft yarn. “I don’t have much left because I knitted—”

“Patrick’s sweater,” David finds himself saying, without meaning to. He looks up from the yarn to see them both looking surprised. “At the Elmington Craft Fair, I noticed what a great yarn the sweater he was wearing was knit from. You’ll have to send me the pattern, it was fascinating.”

Rachel grins. “Yes, of course! Patrick didn’t mention he’d met you before,” she says, with a hint of an edge as she raises her eyebrows at Patrick.

“I maybe didn’t make the best first impression on him?” David admits. 

Patrick grits his teeth, clearly caught out. “That’s okay, I’m not sure I did either.”

David didn’t expect that from him, but he’ll take it. Rachel is looking between them with her eyes slightly narrowed but all she says is, “So you liked that sweater?”

David nods emphatically. “Absolutely! You know when you see a knit and you just want to get up close so you can figure out the pattern, but that is totally not socially acceptable?”

Rachel laughs. “Oh my god, I absolutely do! I’ll email you the pattern for sure.”

Patrick raises his faint eyebrows. “You can figure out the pattern by looking at something?”

David nods. “Mmhm! I assume you don’t knit, since you ask? Because you basically learn to ‘read’ the knitting and should be able to reverse-engineer something if you really get to examine it.”

Patrick’s cheeks are lightly tinged with pink and it’s adorable, regardless of how condescending he is. “I admit, knitting’s never been my thing, but that sounds pretty cool. You should have asked.”

It’s David’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Considering I asked about your work and you totally shut me down, I didn’t think it would be appropriate.”

Patrick’s mouth tenses slightly and he scrunches his eyes like he doesn’t want to hear what comes next, which is confusing until—

“Patrick Brewer, you were _displaying_ at that fair? You told me you were just checking it out! I could have got the day off to help.” Rachel’s voice takes a journey from shocked and annoyed to gentle and almost-hurt in just a few sentences.

David can’t help but zone in on Patrick’s teeth nibbling his lower lip before he answers. “I wanted to try it on my own.”

This feels like far too personal a conversation for him to be a part of, but that doesn’t stop him from asking, “Wait, was that your first time selling?”

Patrick shrugs. “Yeah, it’s never really been my goal.”

David understands the appeal of art for art’s sake, sure, but these two people cling onto that idea a little _too_ hard, in his book. Which is a thought he should probably keep to himself.

Rachel shakes her head. “Right, well sadly I do have to go in a minute, but this has been great. If you’re still interested, David, I’d love to work with Rose Apothecary.”

David blinks and nods. “Mmhm, yes, absolutely! That would be great.”

Rachel grins that whole-face smile again. “Great, why don’t you take this yarn to consider patterns, and we can discuss more details over email?”

She hands him skein of a gorgeous yarn in a mix of reds and blues that shouldn’t work nearly as well as it does. It makes David think of one of Stevie’s favourite plaids, one she still wears a lot at home even if she’s finally given up on them as work wear. He can already see the pattern taking form in his head.

Before he goes, Patrick gives him a firm handshake, with eye-contact so intense it sends a shiver through David. He’s pretty sure Patrick’s affected, too, judging by the slight widening of his eyes as David slowly draws his hand away.

Leaving, David feels a world away from how he did when he arrived. He maybe has a little more insight into the reticence to talk to him that Patrick had shown at the craft fair, but more importantly he thinks he has something really special for the store with Rachel. All that, and he’s learned how to change a tire. 

He’s definitely earned himself a lunch at the half-decent Italian place near here that’s normally too far to bother with. Which he _doesn’t_ spend all of thinking about what it might feel like to feel Patrick’s not-quite-beard against his skin, or to pull that curly hair. That would be ridiculous.


	2. Chapter 2

From: p.brewer@patrickbrewer.ca

Subject: R Atkinson Vendor Contract

To: d.rose@roseapothecary.ca  
CC: r.atkinson1987@mail.com

Dear David,

Pursuant to our meeting on the 11th Rachel (cc’d) has agreed to have me review the paperwork side of your vendor relationship with her. Please respond with your proposal and I will endeavour to review it and respond to you regarding any amendments in the next five working days.

Regards,

Patrick Brewer MBA CPA  
613-555-0189  
45 Elm Rd  
Elmdale, ON  
M3C 7A2

***

From: r.atkinson1987@mail.com

Subject: Re: R Atkinson Vendor Contract

To: d.rose@roseapothecary.ca  
CC: p.brewer@patrickbrewer.ca

Hey David!

Don’t worry about Patrick, he’s just showing off. This is the pattern for the sweater you mentioned: <https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/scalloway-pullover>

I assume you’re on Ravelry? You should totally add me, I’d love to see your projects! My username is yarningforadventure.

Thanks so much!

Rachel

***

From: d.rose@roseapothecary.ca

Subject: Re: R Atkinson Vendor Contract

To: r.atkinson1987@mail.com  
CC: p.brewer@patrickbrewer.ca

Attached:  ratkinsoncontract.pdf (215 KB) 

Dear Rachel,

I very much enjoyed finally getting to meet with you on Monday. Sorry again about the delay, your kindness regarding that was much appreciated.

Oh wow, thanks so much for the pattern for that sweater, it’s an amazing design! I have added you on Ravelry and might I say, I am impressed! You have a great eye for the right yarn to use for a project. I was especially impressed with some of the colourwork you’ve done—I don’t have the patience for Fair Isle.

Attached to this email is our standard vendor agreement, adapted as per our discussion, along with a document giving just a bit more information on the store and the Rose Apothecary community as a whole. I hope that you (and Patrick) take your time to read them over and learn a bit more about what we do.

Please let me know if you have any questions whatsoever, or if there’s anything else you need from me!

Looking forward to hearing from you,

David Rose, founder and CEO Rose Apothecary  
roseapothecary.ca

***

People think of glass as fragile, but it’s so much more complex than that. Glass can stand a lot of pressure, but it can also totally shatter in an instant if you treat it wrong. There’s something about creating something so delicate and strong that appeals to Patrick in a visceral way he can’t put a name to.

The first time he broke a piece he had put hours and hours of work into he was totally devastated. It’s still hard when that happens, but now he understands it’s part of the process. It happens even to the most amazing glass artists sometimes and you just have to decide you’ll try again. Maybe you take a break first, but you come back and keep working. 

Today is one of the bad days; Patrick’s seriously struggling to concentrate. He’s already managed to smash two projects he’s spent hours working on, which means that he should stop. Except, working is usually the best way to get away from all the other things floating around his head, so if he stops it’ll be even worse.

He should organise his studio. That, at least, is mindless enough while being low risk. It’s not like the studio is in need of that much organisation—Patrick likes to keep everything in the right place, to know where all his materials are when he needs them. There is always cleaning to do, however, especially after a morning like this one. He’s pretty sure he managed to find all the pieces of broken glass, but they have an impressive ability to hide out.

The cause of all his distraction is one David Rose. It’s rare for anyone to piss Patrick off as quickly as that guy had, but having someone run into him and then act like it was _Patrick’s_ fault can apparently do it. Plus, he was maybe a little high strung about actually attempting to sell his work for the first time. 

Just the brief description of his store as a place for Patrick’s work had felt totally wrong, though. He’d been very surprised when Rachel mentioned _the same store_ as having contacted her, even more shocked she was interested. Then again, buzzwords like ‘branding’ don’t set her on edge the same way they do him; he’s so quickly thrown back into the corporate world he hated being a part of whenever he hears them.

During the meeting at Rachel’s place, that Patrick had insisted on sitting in on, David still seemed kind of pretentious, but he could see why Rachel had been interested. And then the fucking way he’d responded to the email! Ugh. It was maddening that David had simultaneously managed to make himself seem so much more reasonable than Patrick, while also dismissing him completely. Patrick is lost in his head, thinking himself in circles, but then he has the thought: _I just can’t believe Rachel’s selling out_ and he has to laugh at himself.

When had he turned into such a Goddamn hipster? He knows Rachel isn’t selling out, whatever that means, and David isn’t fucking Wal-Mart, trying to stifle creativity. It just... makes him uncomfortable in a way he can’t quite articulate. 

Thinking about David makes his blood fizz and boil in a way he doesn’t want to have to examine. It’s not just annoyance, there’s something else there and he can’t stop thinking about it.

Maybe he should go for a hike.

***

“So you want to fuck this guy?” If nothing else, Ken can always be trusted to cut through Patrick’s bullshit.

Patrick and Ken had dated for a few months a couple of years back. He’d been the first man Patrick ever got to the ‘boyfriend’ stage with, but they work better as friends. Patrick doesn’t know what it says about him that his two best friends are both his exes, but he tells himself it shows his emotional maturity.

Emotional maturity he is struggling to cling on to right now, as he feels his mouth forming a pout. “Excuse me, I was just telling you how annoying he is!”

Ken rolls his eyes. “Sure and in the process you spent a good five minutes just telling me about how expressive his face is.” He puts on the ridiculous voice he always uses to tease Patrick, which absolutely doesn’t sound like him. “He’s so annoying, Ken! He has these _thick, dark_ eyebrows and you can read every thought that passes through his head! When he emailed he only paid attention to _Rachel_ and ignored me. He never stops moving his _big_ , graceful hands, either, Ken.”

Patrick is definitely pouting. “I did not say his hands were graceful.”

Ken raises an eyebrow. “But they are, right?”

Patrick buries his face in his hands and mutters, “Yes. And he wears these silver rings that make it even harder to look away.”

“Mmm.” There’s a dreamy look on Ken’s face that makes Patrick suspicious.

“Wait, do you know him?”

Ken purses his mouth and wobbles his hand in a vague gesture. “This is David Rose, right? You said he runs a pretentious store in Schitt’s Creek and there certainly isn’t anyone else who meets that criteria.” 

Patrick nods. “Yes, that’s him.”

“So I don’t _know_ him, but I love his store and he’s, like, talked me through the products and checked me out and stuff.”

Patrick feels unduly annoyed to hear that Ken ‘loves’ a store that Patrick is deeply suspicious of. That’s not what he finds himself asking about, however. “He’s checked you out, but have you _checked him out?_.” Patrick finishes off with a wink, just to make Ken laugh.

“I mean, he’s obviously hot? But his energy is kind of intense, not really _my_ type.” Ken shrugs.

“Wait, are you saying intense energy is my type?” 

“I mean…” Ken picks up his tea to sip like a fucking meme.

Patrick wants to argue with this, but he’s not sure he can. One of the things that had kept him going back to Rachel so long after he should have stopped was her big personality. He goes to get them more drinks, just so he doesn’t need to come up with a response.

It’s not like Patrick isn’t aware that he finds David attractive, much as he’s tried not to be. That was one of the first thoughts Patrick had, upon seeing David barrelling towards him too quick to be dodged. _Wow, that guy is really hot_ had been immediately followed by _Oh, so he thinks he can treat people like shit because of the way he looks_. It might have been an unfairly harsh read on a person who said something without thinking, but Patrick’s still suspicious.

David turning up at Rachel’s in a tight t-shirt with tousled hair and literal grease stains hadn’t helped the whole ‘finding him attractive’ situation. Patrick has spent the days since being bombarded with mental images of David changing a car tire—he can be literally watching porn and his brain will start to wander to it.

There’d been a spark between them the moment he’d opened the door at Rachel’s that he can’t convince himself is purely antagonism. He’d clearly been checking Patrick out and Patrick checked him out right back. 

He’s not sure he’s ever had that sort of instant sexual chemistry with someone before and he’s frustrated it happened with someone he so wants to dislike. He can’t stop imagining what might happen if he gave into it and doesn’t know if he’d be able to resist finding out, given the opportunity.

There’s a part of Patrick that hates the idea that he read this guy wrong, and really wants to be right that he’s an irredeemable douchebag. It’s the part that made him assume David had turned up late for his meeting with Rachel as part of some over-engineered scheme to get himself sympathy. Except, he’d seemed genuinely uncomfortable with it and much more in his element when he came out of the bathroom having changed. 

“Hello?” The barista’s voice snaps Patrick into awareness and he realises that he’s somehow reached the front of the line. He places their orders and drops a toonie in the tip jar to make up for being so distracted.

Patrick is determined to spend some time thinking about something other than David Rose for a while, so when he gets back to their table he gets Ken started talking about his new relationship. He’s adorably nervous and excited and doesn’t shy away from telling Patrick all about it. Patrick’s known that Ken’s bi pretty much the whole time he’s known him, but he’s never actually known him to be dating a woman. It’s a little bit of a mental adjustment, but not too much, considering Rachel’s pan. Ken’s obviously smitten as he tells Patrick about this woman, and Patrick’s really happy for him.

***

What Ken said about David’s store won’t leave Patrick’s head. He finds himself making up a reason he needs to be in the Schitt’s Creek area so he can check it out a few days later. The bizarre town sign, which appears to feature David himself, makes him wonder if this could possibly be a good idea. The town is tiny, but in a cute and quaint way. It’s basically one long street and in the middle there’s an intersection that contains a cafe, a garage, and Rose Apothecary.

The store is beautiful on the outside, with flowers and fruit offsetting the black and cream design. He reminds himself that it’s a store, anyone is allowed to go in there, but he still breathes a sigh of relief when he peeks through the large windows and doesn’t spot David. The only person he sees is a shop assistant behind the counter with dark tan skin and multi-coloured hair.

A bell rings above the door when Patrick opens it and the person looks up. “Welcome to Rose Apothecary, please let me know if you need any help. I’m Neff.”

Patrick nods. “I’m Patrick, and I’ll just have a look for now.” The store is well laid out; it feels impressively open, for such a small space. There’s a lot of skincare, various home goods, and the back wall is dedicated to yarn.

It is a fascinating backdrop to the rest of the store, where even the products are almost all in shades of white and cream. The yarn selection is more varied—a selection of colours arranged so they are all balanced out—and very different to the rest. That’s where Rachel’s work will be, so he can’t help but find himself drawn to it, picking out a skein of yarn to feel the soft texture.

“Do you knit or crochet?” A voice asks, and Patrick turns to see Neff standing nearby. They are wearing an outfit that is a world of colours—a dress with blue florals, purple knee-high socks, a neatly-buttoned mustard vest. On the vest is pinned a wooden pin reading ‘they/them’. Patrick has seen people wearing pronoun badges before at some of the queer events he’s been to in the area, but never one quite like that.

“Nah,” he replies, “but my best friend has for years—she even spins now—and so I know a bunch about it.” That’s why he knows these loose piles of strings are ‘skeins’—he spent years sitting with the yarn held taut on his hands, so Rachel could wind them into balls by hand, before she could afford the equipment to help her do the process herself.

“Why haven’t you learned?”

Patrick blinks. It’s not something he’s really ever considered. When Rachel started, back at university, he considered himself thoroughly uncreative, and in the time since he broke free of that no one has ever asked him that question. He thinks of the way David talked about being able to read the knitting and suddenly he wants to understand that, too. “I guess it just never occurred to me,” he answers honestly. 

Neff nods. “The patriarchy’ll do that to you,” they say solemnly.

Patrick laughs, but he can’t deny it. His mother knits, Rachel and some of her female friends knit, but he’s not sure he’s encountered a male knitter before David. “What would you suggest to start, then?”

Neff purses their mouth thoughtfully. “Well, if I’m being completely honest? This is all luxury yarn—it’s all spun by incredible local artists, who I can tell you more about if you want. It’s amazing to work with, but might be a bit pricey for someone starting out. Your best friend probably has some scrap yarn in her stash somewhere she could give you.”

Patrick’s surprised; he was definitely expecting the hard sell. “I’m not sure that’s a great sales tactic,” he points out.

Neff laughs. “Well, the sales tactic is to get you started, but not feeling resentful of how much money you spent if it doesn’t work out immediately. Once you’re hooked—pun intended—then you’ll just have to keep coming back for more.”

“Ahh, you’re playing the long game.” Patrick likes Neff, likes the store. It’s not the soulless rebranding exercise he imagined.

“In fact, speaking of that, we have a Stitch and Bitch twice a month that you’re welcome to come along to. People there are always happy to help out a newbie. The guy who owns this store, David, is always there and he’s the one who taught me.”

Patrick struggles to imagine David, even the version gushing over yarn to Rachel, teaching someone a craft. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

Neff nods. “Anything else I can help you with?” they ask and Patrick feels like he should buy something, even if he knows that getting friendly with customers and then asking that question is a sales technique. 

He looks around the store and his vision snags on the tubs of creams in the centre. A sense memory briefly overwhelms him, David shaking his hand and Patrick feeling like all his judgements of the man were proved right by just how _soft_ David’s hand had been.

“I could maybe use some sort of hand cream? Especially if you have anything that’s good for burn scars; I work with heat.”

Neff looks intrigued, but doesn’t ask for more information, which Patrick is grateful for. He doesn’t want to lie to them, but also the idea of them telling David about the glass artist who came by to fondle the yarn makes him uncomfortable, however unlikely. “Absolutely! Rosehip oil is great for burns, we have a rosehip hand cream made with goat milk from one of the local farms, just an hour or so west of here. Would you like to try it?”

Patrick agrees, though he didn’t realise that would mean Neff rubbing the cream into one of his hands themself. It’s a strangely intimate process—in no way sexual, but the ritual of it feels intensely personal. When they step back, Patrick feels his moisturised hand with his other and he has to admit he feels the difference.

“I’ll buy it,” he says and Neff grins as they pick up a jar and hand it to him. 

Patrick walks it over to the counter and spots some trays by the check out, with pronoun pins like the one Neff is wearing. He picks out a ‘he/him’ and adds it to the hand cream. “Who made these? I’ve seen pronoun badges at a few queer events, but I’ve not seen ones like this before.”

Neff smiles softly, with a hint of something in their expression that Patrick surmises is having a suspicion confirmed. It makes Patrick pleased he took the time to touch up his undercut last night. 

“There’s an amazing wood artist in Elm Valley,” they look around conspiratorially, even though no one else is there, before adding, “Actually, if you google their name, from the sticker on the back, you can find their Etsy. Lots of cool stuff.”

Patrick runs his thumb along the edge of the wood on the one he picked out. He loves knowing that someone worked on this, someone put their effort into making this specific item and is getting credit for it. “That’s awesome,” he says and pushes both items towards Neff. 

Everything is rung up and paid for and Patrick even accepts the Rose Apothecary tote back, despite having a fold-away bag in his pocket. He can admit the design is charming. Before he turns to leave, Neff says, “Thank you for shopping local.”

Patrick might have rolled his eyes a little at that, had it been said when he came in, but now he just smiles genuinely. “And thank you for all your help.”

Neff’s smile turns a tad shy. “I put a flyer about the Stitch and Bitch sessions in your bag. I hope you come along some time.”

“I’ll definitely think about it,” he says, and he means it. He’s not so sure about voluntarily spending time with David, but he’s definitely feeling an urge to expand his creative horizons.

***

Patrick gets back to his studio that afternoon full of creative energy. He doesn’t normally start this late, but he wants to make something—wants to be part of the creativity of the community he’s experienced. It’s a heady feeling. He puts _Rumours_ on the speakers, strips down to a white t-shirt and jeans, and gets moving.

He throws his body into the work, not even sure what he’s making. He’s using blue—he can rarely resist smalt— his strong arms manoeuvring the pontil capably in the furnace and then on the marver. Once it takes the shape of a ball, he can’t help but be drawn to white, threading swirling strands to wrap haphazardly around the blue core. He's getting the black frit prepared to add to the design taking shape in front of him when he realises he has company. 

Patrick’s studio is a converted double garage and he usually leaves the doors open while he’s working. Leaning against the entrance, an intense look in his eyes, is David Rose. Even with the heat of the furnace it sends a shiver down Patrick’s spine. He’s suddenly acutely aware of his own appearance. His white t-shirt is sticking to his body with sweat, his arms are tensed with effort, his hair mussed, but he doesn’t feel self conscious—he feels sexy, more than he ever has before. Even his ridiculous safety goggles don’t stop the feeling, instead they enhance it. He’s working, creating something, and the evidence of it is all over him. He’s sure David likes it.

After a few seconds of prolonged eye contact, Patrick turns away and gets back to work. It’s hard not to peek at David, but he forces himself to act like he doesn’t even care that he's there. He can feel David’s gaze on him like a physical touch, now that he’s aware of it, and Patrick allows himself to sink into the way that makes him feel. His body is moving smoothly as he adds delicate black strands to the white striations, and uses them to encase the core he has made.

Normally he blocks out physical sensations like the intense heat the furnace produces, but he’s hyper-aware of it now. It feels like an extension of the way he feels being watched like this, the temperature intense and all over him, creating a bubble even as the cold air from outside tries to get to him. Somehow, instead of distracting him it makes him feel connected to his work in a way he can rarely achieve.

He doesn’t rush, taking his time. If David is as into this, into _him_ as Patrick suspects, he’ll still be here, and if not? Then that’s his loss. It’s a strange piece, not large or showy, but he thinks he likes it. He gets it into the annealer and resists the urge to rush over to David immediately. He carefully makes sure to shut everything down that should be and clears up, taking off his goggles before he walks over to the entrance. He gets up close, before reaching over and pressing the button to close the garage doors.

David’s eyes are stunning, dark but with hidden depths Patrick can only see because of how close they are. It’s almost too much, standing so close together just looking at each other, but Patrick loves it. Suddenly, he has no doubts about this—what he wants and what he knows David wants, too. A part of him wants to babble, to blurt out questions or come ons, but he waits. He can hear the catch in David’s breath, see how off-balance and turned on he is just from Patrick working. There’s something heady in making David be the one to shatter the silence between them.

David’s blinks, which just makes his darkened pupils all the more obvious. He doesn’t break eye contact even as he’s obviously steeling himself to say something. “Hi”

Patrick feels how smug his smirk is and leans into it, this side of himself that he doesn’t always like. “Hi.”

David swallows, and watching the movement of his Adam's apple—seeing how intensely affected by this he is—is worth breaking their eye contact for. Patrick’s eyes get caught on David’s lips as he starts to speak again. “I wanted to come here to—”

“I know why you came here,” Patrick interrupts, leaning in to cut him off with a kiss. They don’t need to have a conversation about this, the tension between them is palpable and anything other than this is delaying the inevitable.

The moment their mouths touch is electric, like the energy that has been building up between them is all concentrated where they’re finally touching. David’s lips are ridiculously soft and he doesn’t take more than a split-second to completely get on board, opening his mouth to viciously bite Patrick’s lip and take over the kiss. One of David’s hands—the one with the rings, because Patrick can feel them—comes up to tilt Patrick’s head and hold him in place.

Patrick gives himself over to it, groaning as David’s tongue thrusts into his mouth, but his hands take some initiative. He scrabbles at David’s waist, lifting both his sweater and the t-shirt underneath until he hits skin. Touching David makes Patrick feel like a live wire, like electricity is travelling from every point they connect—zipping right through his entire body and landing between his legs. He’s glad David’s taking over this kiss, because he’s never been so turned on this fast and he can barely coordinate himself, just opening his mouth to whatever David wants and gripping tight with his hands, nails digging into the skin of David’s back.

He’s not at all prepared for it when David pulls him in close and then spins them, before shoving Patrick against the now-closed garage door. It’s not really designed for this sort of pressure, but Patrick couldn’t give less of a fuck about that right now. He’s far too busy having the hottest experience of his life.

David breaks away from Patrick’s mouth, only to bite his way over to Patrick’s ear, while Patrick’s still panting to catch his breath. “Watching you work was incredible.”

Patrick groans; he wasn’t expecting David to say something so straightforward and complimentary and it shoots right through him in an unexpected way. “You liked it?”

David hauls one of Patrick’s legs up over his hip and fuck, Patrick had _no idea_ he was into being man-handled like this. Between dating Rachel most of his life, and Ken being his most significant boyfriend, Patrick kind of stuck with the idea that he was into being the bigger one in a relationship—and he does enjoy that, absolutely—but this is something else. David is utterly surrounding him, crowding Patrick against the textured metal of the door, moving him where he wants him to go, and Patrick fucking loves it.

David grinds his cock right against Patrick and he’s _so_ hard, god, he might be harder than Patrick, who feels like he could faint any minute from the rush of blood away from his brain. “Yeah I fucking liked it,” David growls and his voice is so different, so transformed by lust, that Patrick’s dick twitches hard enough it seriously hurts in these tight jeans. 

Patrick scratches his nails up David’s back, his hands still under the sweater that Patrick suspects cost enough money to make him sick. Patrick pulls himself together enough to start gathering the hem so he can get it off and David helps. Patrick feels a surge of triumph when he gets the sweater and t-shirt off David in one go and tosses them to the floor, but David’s face kind of—twists in on itself as he looks over at his clothes on the floor of a garage glass studio. It's a very clean floor, as such things go, but David’s obviously distracted by it. 

“It’s just—it’s Givenchy,” David says, dropping Patrick’s leg.

Patrick has a vision of himself saying _I don’t give a_ fuck _what it is_ and turning David around to slam him against the door, but that’s not who he is, even with someone he finds as annoying as David. Instead, he peels off his own shirt and pointedly throws it to the ground before watching David pick up his sweater. At this point, Patrick is resigned to him going through a whole process, separating it from the t-shirt and folding them both, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, David looks around intensely, hangs his still-tangled clothes over a clean workbench and says, “That’ll do,” before stalking right back to Patrick.

He doesn’t crowd up close, instead seems to be taking his time to look at Patrick’s shirtless torso. Patrick’s been made very aware by the guys he’s slept with over the past few years how much they appreciate the way glasswork has strengthened and built his shoulder muscles, which weren’t exactly shabby before he got into this. He’s not sure anyone’s looked quite as interested as David does now though, tracing a finger down Patrick’s neck and over his shoulder, before sliding it down his bicep and gripping. 

Their eyes meet, and despite David’s hand on his arm being the only physical contact between them, Patrick feels utterly pinned.

It’s David who breaks the eye contact, looking down to sweep his eyes across Patrick’s torso, which encourages Patrick to do the same and—wow. David has more chest hair than anyone Patrick’s been with before and Patrick is _so_ incredibly into it. 

He reaches out a hand and drags his nails over one of the swirls of hair, ending by scraping them over David’s nipple. The reaction is incredible, David makes the most spectacular noise that ripples through his whole body. Patrick has to get more, leans forward to get his mouth around David’s other nipple, while his free hand wraps around David’s back to hold him up.

Patrick is mean with his mouth and teeth immediately, doesn’t build up to it, but David doesn’t mind if the way he groans and grabs a handful of Patrick’s curls is anything to go by. David digs his fingers in and _pulls_ Patrick’s hair, while holding him in place against his chest. 

Patrick works David’s chest harshly with his hand and his mouth; he’s pressed so hard against David he scarcely has room to breathe but he doesn’t give a fuck. Who needs to breathe when you have your face mashed up against David Rose’s pecs? 

All of his senses are full of him, and it’s _delicious_ but then David speaks. “Fuck, Patrick, I _thought_ this pitch was going to be a mistake.”

Patrick pushes himself back, even though it tugs harshly at his hair as he drags his head away from David’s hand. “Pitch?” 

David groans, shaking his head and waving the hand that had been gripped in Patrick’s hair around. “Shut up, god, please ignore me and go back to what you were doing,” he says, with a gesture at his chest, followed immediately by an embarrassed wince. It is infuriatingly charming. 

Patrick would very much like to go back to what he was doing, but a bigger part of himself is unwilling to give up a chance to needle David. He leans back against the garage door and hooks his thumbs into his belt loops; does everything he can to appear utterly casual and relaxed, like he isn’t sweaty and shirtless and hard enough to pound nails. 

“Oh, but now I’m interested in the pitch. I didn’t know you were a fan of baseball.”

David’s face goes through a fascinating series of expressions, landing on disbelief. “I am _not_ a fan of baseball!” he says, after some spluttering, as though Patrick hurled an insult at him. 

Patrick twists his mouth in a show of confusion and taps himself on the chin. “But I thought you said you came here to _pitch_.” He can’t help himself, has to thrust his hips forward just a little as he says the last word, drawing it out lewdly. David’s gaze goes right down to Patrick’s crotch, where his jeans aren’t even trying to conceal how turned on he is. Patrick feels like he should feel self conscious, but instead he feels—powerful. 

David looks at Patrick’s crotch—at how getting his mouth of David’s chest got Patrick so hard he’s almost dizzy with it—and he fucking _licks his lips_. It makes Patrick feel like one of those guys on the covers of the smutty romance novels Ken and his mom both love. Like he isn’t just cute, or handsome, but the platonic ideal of sex appeal. 

David stares while Patrick just waits, and then suddenly David is crashing into him, slamming their mouths and bodies together. Patrick groans, but this time he’s much less passive. It’s a violent kiss, enough teeth and tongue that it should be too much, but it isn’t, it’s perfect. 

David uses his knee to shove Patrick’s legs apart so he’s standing between them, but then he grabs hold of Patrick’s thighs and fucking _lifts them around his waist_. It’s all Patrick can do to grip on—both with his legs and with his hands on David’s shoulders—try not to come, and pray that the garage door, which is creaking alarmingly, can hold some of his weight, so it’s not all on David.

Their kiss barely broke as David picked him up, but now it does, and David immediately lifts Patrick a little more and bites hard where Patrick’s neck meets his shoulder. Patrick _wails_ , a sound he doesn’t think he’s ever made before and fuck, David’s back must be a fucking mess by now, with the amount that Patrick’s been clawing it at, but it only seems to spur him on. 

David is vicious, biting and sucking on Patrick’s skin and the sensation rockets through him, that bite of pain heightening everything else. He wishes he weren’t still wearing fucking _jeans_ , because the zipper is digging into his dick and that’s a bite of pain he could do without, but no way is he having David put him down before it’s absolutely necessary. Instead, he loops one arm around the back of David’s neck and uses the other to reach between them to try and undo his belt.

David makes a delightfully confused noise before he figures out what Patrick is doing. He pulls his mouth off the impressive mark he was making, dropping a light kiss on it that makes Patrick throb in a different sort of way, and adjusts his hold so he can get one hand in and help.

“This belt is a monstrosity,” he says, as they get it open.

“I preferred it when you weren’t talking,” Patrick replies, which is probably one of the harshest things he has said to someone who didn’t know him well enough to know he’s a troll, but David’s mouth quirks and his eyes sparkle like he’s familiar with this game, and he enjoys it as much as Patrick does.

“That’s a pity for you, because I love talking,” David says as he undoes the fly and gropes Patrick’s dick through his underwear, thumbing over the wet spot at the head, which is practically soaked through with pre-come. “I was going to talk about what I might like to do with this cock, but if you prefer I stay quiet...?”

Patrick throws his head back and moans, which makes the garage door groan ominously in response. He knows he should get them to move, but David’s fingers are trailing over his dick through his underwear and he’s being _held up against a door_ , so he ignores it. “I might be willing to reconsider my position,” he says, proud that his voice is mostly steady, if a bit rough.

“Hmm,” David says, twisting his mouth in a way Patrick can’t look away from. “Well, I was thinking I’d get my mouth on it, but I’m not sure I want to let you have the _satisfaction_ of shutting me up.” He drags a nail over the line of Patrick’s cock, the fabric dulling it to just the right side of too much. “It’s a pity, I bet I’d fucking love choking on this.”

Patrick practically chokes on _air_ and can’t help thrusting forward, which gets him an all-too-brief experience of actual pressure from David’s hand, before it’s pulled back and David tuts at him. Patrick has never in his life found someone tutting at him attractive and yet in this moment it’s the sexiest thing ever. He thrusts again, to see what reaction he’ll get this time, which makes the door groan in a way he can no longer ignore, even as a captivating mixture of lust and annoyance flashes through David’s eyes.

“Ugh, I don’t trust this door, we need to relocate,” Patrick says regretfully.

David purses his mouth and Patrick is pretty sure there’s a moment where he considers trying to carry Patrick to a more suitable location, before he shrugs and helps Patrick get back on his feet. “Where exactly are we ‘relocating’ to?” he asks, and Patrick has a delicious flash of getting David naked in his bed, but his studio is in a whole separate out-building and no way he’s got that much patience. There is, however, a sofa tucked into the corner of the room, so Patrick drags David’s mouth down to his and guides him in that direction.

David kisses Patrick fiercely and doesn’t miss a step, moving backwards without a glance, all his energy focused on Patrick’s mouth and it’s intoxicating. Patrick has to use one hand to hold up his pants, because having them fall down and tripping is not a sexy look, but his other hand reaches up into David’s hair to pull viciously. Apparently, David enjoys having his hair pulled as much as he enjoys being the one doing the pulling, because he moans and increases his rough grip on Patrick. Once they reach the couch, Patrick pushes David onto it and revels in the look of confusion that crosses his face. 

“You should be naked,” Patrick says, before kneeling down to undo his shoelaces. 

David blinks and it’s cute, but at the same time his level of discombobulation makes Patrick want to puff out his chest and strut around. It’s ridiculous how sexy he feels around David today, when he’s been so annoyed by him in their previous interactions. Although, right now he is kneeling basically between an attractive man’s legs, so that’s a position that he usually feels sexy in.

David leans forward to take off his own shoes and Patrick can’t help but catch his lips in a kiss, even though it delays his ultimate goal of nudity. It’s just—his face is right there, and Patrick isn’t exactly feeling like a bastion of willpower in this moment. It’s a soft kiss, just lips, more delicate than their others, and Patrick’s aches at the feel of it in a way he isn’t about to examine right now.

Their shoes and remaining clothes come off quickly after that—with David’s pants draped over the far side of the couch, rather than staying on the floor like Patrick’s—and Patrick immediately surges to straddle David’s lap. It’s so good, so much skin against skin, especially the feel of David’s cock pressed against his own, with nothing between them. The friction is a bit much, but that just gives Patrick an idea.

He sticks three fingers in David’s mouth and David goes for it, licking and sucking them wetly, scraping his teeth along Patrick’s knuckles. Patrick groans and gets his mouth on David’s shoulder so he has something to concentrate on other than just that sensation. He bites and sucks on David’s gorgeous skin and revels in the way it makes David let out a moan that vibrates through his whole hand.

Much as he’s enjoying the obscene things happening to his hand, he _needs_ to touch David’s dick, so Patrick slides his wet fingers out and shifts so he can get a grip on both their cocks together. David groans and looks down to watch, both of them leaning their foreheads against each other. 

It’s not really wet enough, though the spit and copious amounts of pre-come they’ve both leaked help. What Patrick isn’t expecting is for David to _spit_ in his palm and get his own hand in the mix. David’s hand is big, just a bit bigger than Patrick’s when they’re tangled together around their dicks and there is _no way_ Patrick’s going to last. This whole experience is like something out of someone else’s life and he’s lost to it.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he says, barely recognising his own voice.

David makes a deep, satisfied noise. “Yeah, you’re so fucking hot for this.”

Patrick whines, can’t even pretend it’s not true. “Yeah, yeah, you’re so sexy, _fuck_ ,” he says, hardly aware he’s still speaking.

David uses his free hand to wrap around and grab Patrick’s ass; he digs his nails in and scratches hard and that’s _it_. Patrick comes so hard he feels it in his fucking toenails and his hand loses all coordination, but David’s hand strokes him through it, getting Patrick’s come all over both of them. He keeps going so long the aftershocks almost get into over-sensitivity, but Patrick pulls himself together enough to pinch at David’s nipple, still a little sensitive from Patrick’s teeth, and say, “David, I need you to fucking come,” and that seems to work, because David is groaning and coming everywhere, and it’s _too much_ but Patrick strokes him through it, doesn’t pull away from the sharp sensation until he’s sure David’s done.

Patrick collapses onto David and really wishes they weren’t on the far side of the studio, away from anything he could use to clean them up. Luckily, he does have a sink in here, just on the opposite side of the room. He sighs and tries to get up without using his hands, as even the one that wasn’t on their dicks managed to get some come on it. He could try and use David’s body to steady himself, but that would get him even messier than he already is. 

David, of course, doesn’t try to help, just watches in amusement. Alarmingly, that amusement no longer causes a twinge of annoyance in Patrick, but instead makes him grin back fondly. That’ll be the afterglow. Patrick shoves his feet into his shoes as well as he can without hands—a glass blowing workshop isn’t a place to go barefoot. He washes up at the sink and tries to find something he can use as a washcloth for David, eventually settling on dampening a rag that’s at least clean. On his way back, he grabs David’s sweater and t-shirt from the chair he’s placed them on.

David is blatantly watching Patrick through all this and while Patrick isn’t feeling himself _quite_ as intensely as he was before, he finds he doesn’t mind it. Even with his dick softening and his shoes not-quite-on, David is looking at him with open appreciation. Patrick drops the wet cloth onto David before sitting next to him so he can take his shoes back off and get dressed in the right order. 

Patrick is fully dressed, minus the t-shirt still over by the door, when he realises that David has cleaned up, pulled on his underwear, and stalled. He’s looking at the shelves around the area they’re in with an expression something like awe.

“Is this all your work?” David asks, eventually.

“Yup,” Patrick replies, feeling that itch of discomfort he gets when people talk about his glass. Part of the reason he had gone to that craft fair had been to try and force himself past that, but while it had gotten easier by the end of the day, right now it makes Patrick feel more exposed than he did walking around his studio naked.

As Patrick goes to pick up his t-shirt and pull it back on he has a sudden desire to pull a sweater over it—to cover himself up as much as possible, as if that will help the way David’s eyes roaming over shelves of his work makes him feel.

“This is amazing,” David says and it makes Patrick have to grit his teeth to hold back a scoff.

“You don’t need to flatter me,” he says. Patrick knows his work has a long way to go and he doesn’t like people pretending it’s better than it is.

David raises one of those incredible eyebrows. “What exactly gave you the impression flattery is something I do?”

Patrick shrugs and resists the urge to wrap his hands around himself. In avoiding meeting David’s eyes, his gaze lands on the impressive marks he left on David’s shoulder. It makes Patrick feel more like himself. David came here to work out their sexual tension, it went great, any small talk is going to feel weird because post-sex small talk _is_ weird.

Patrick knows he’s smirking, which seems to be what is needed for David to realise he’s still mostly-naked while Patrick is fully dressed. It’s getting close to dinner time and in any other situation Patrick would be asking David to stay to eat. Hell, the few times he has tried hook up apps he didn’t shy away from offering them a meal; he likes to be a good host. But with the distance now between them, Patrick doesn’t feel like he can do that.

Rachel’s contract still isn’t quite finalised, and it may be that Patrick is no longer convinced David’s out to give her a shitty deal, but he still doesn’t want to let his guard down. Well, not more than he already has. David finishes getting dressed and then they stand next to each other in awkward silence, waiting while the door slowly slides up. 

Finally, it’s open enough for David to get out and they share “byes” before he heads to his car, and Patrick goes to his house.

***

From: p.brewer@patrickbrewer.ca

Subject: Re: R Atkinson Vendor Contract

To: d.rose@roseapothecary.ca  
CC: r.atkinson1987@mail.com

Attached:  ratkinsoncontractannotated.pdf (215 KB) 

Dear David,

Please find attached the annotated documents with our comments and questions. I look forward to receiving your response as soon as is possible.

Kind regards,

Patrick Brewer

***

From: d.rose@roseapothecary.ca

Subject: Re: R Atkinson Vendor Contract

To: r.atkinson1987@mail.com  
CC: p.brewer@patrickbrewer.ca

Attached:  ratkinsoncontractannotated2.pdf (215 KB) 

Dear Rachel (and Patrick),

Thanks for getting this back to me. A few of these might be better answered over the phone, but I’ve attached a re-annotated version. Let me know how you want to iron out these last details.

Thanks so much!

David Rose

***

From: r.atkinson1987@mail.com

Subject: Re: R Atkinson Vendor Contract

To: d.rose@roseapothecary.ca  
CC: p.brewer@patrickbrewer.ca

Hi David!

Okay, what you said in those notes makes sense, but I agree a phone call would be helpful. Can we do tomorrow afternoon? That can be just us, I’ll fill Patrick in later.

Thanks again!

Rachel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, the email addresses and ravelry name are made up (thanks to nontoxic for Rachel's adorable username!) but the pattern linked is the one that inspired the sweater Patrick's wearing in the header on chapter 1 (the sweater part of that is all RhetoricalQuestion's work).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra big thanks to nontoxic for being the only reason anything related to baseball in this makes sense and singsongsung for the reality TV help, along with thanks again to my lovely beta team.

David can’t quite remember when he and Stevie started making bets with each other. It started simple, making each other do stupid things by betting on the outcomes of the reality dating competitions they hate-watched together.

“If the one with the freckles gets the rose you have to use hashtag blessed on your next instagram story.”

“If those boring assholes win _Love Island_ you need to take out the trash for a month.”

“There is no way _she_ is the next Bachelorette! If she is, I’ll get Butterfly into the carrier next time she has a vet appointment.”

David’s personal triumph had come when he had put his faith in the power of queer people to stop fucking for five minutes and do the math and he correctly predicted that the “sexually fluid” season of _Are You the One?_ would result in a win. With that one, he had got Stevie to allow Roland to use the Love Room for his and Jocelyn’s anniversary _Twister_ roleplay (David has to admit, if only to himself, Jocelyn would make a pretty hot Helen Hunt), _and_ got her to watch Rollie Jr. for the night.

That may have been his downfall. He got cocky, went into their next show with certainty, because he’d won nearly every bet the last season of _Temptation Island_. He was sure he’d win and Stevie would have to go to that salon Jocelyn had trapped his mother into trying back when they were new in town. Instead, he’d been totally wrong about who would stay together and now he was committed to filling in the next time Stevie’s baseball team was short a player.

Stevie plays dirty, too. She isn’t the one to tell him when his time is up, no: she leaves that to someone he can’t say no to. David is unpacking a new shipment of applesauce in the stockroom, while Neff works the floor, when he hears a voice saying, “Is David here?”

He recognises the voice, so he goes to see what she needs, even though Neff is generally excellent at telling people that David is unavailable. As expected, Ronnie is standing in the middle of the store, though the smirk on her face is both unexpected and distinctly worrisome.

At least with Ronnie you never need to wait for her to beat around the bush before she says something. “Stevie tells me you’ll be filling in for the game on Saturday.” There is not even a _hint_ of a question.

David doesn’t need to fake his confusion, because he genuinely has no idea what she’s talking about. “Pardon?”

“The baseball game. Jaime can’t play and Stevie mentioned that you’d offered to step in.”

David’s whole life flashes before his eyes as he remembers why she’s saying this. “Oh, mmhm, I see! Well, the thing is… that… I…” Luckily, the very place he is standing in provides his salvation. “It’s such a pity, but I’ll have to be here at the store! Saturday is our busiest day and I can’t close. So terribly sorry.”

David is feeling very pleased with himself for such impressive thinking on his feet right up until Neff says, “I could work Saturday, if you need me to.”

David adores Neff. They are dependable and hard-working and a truly spectacular dresser, but in this moment he almost wishes he’d never hired them. Except, without Neff he would need to run inventory all on his own and that would be a fate worse than death, so. Okay. 

Ronnie smiles her shark’s-tooth grin before he has a chance to come up with a new excuse. “Perfect, I’ll see you then.” Then she turns to Neff and starts asking about the day’s cheese selection, like David isn’t even there, having a full on crisis. He’s still not totally recovered by the time she leaves, but at least she had the decency to purchase some brie and a bottle of rosé.

“I didn’t know you played baseball, David.”

David is turning and about to explain to Neff exactly how much he does _not_ play baseball when he sees their expression and realises they know _exactly_ what they just did. “Okay, I am fairly sure that as my employee you are not supposed to thrust me so carelessly into _life-threatening situations_!”

Neff usually has a great poker face, but they are barely even trying to hide their amusement now. “Oh gosh, I just thought that there was _no way_ Stevie would have volunteered you if you didn’t want to do it!”

David is frustratingly amused by the whole ridiculous innocent act Neff is doing and huffs. “Ugh, you know what, I am going away again and as far as anyone else who comes in is concerned I am _not_ available, okay?”

Neff grins and David curses how utterly drawn he is to the most sarcastic people in the world. “Of course, Mr Rose. I bet you want to start figuring out your plays!” They only call David ‘Mr Rose’ when they really want to mess with him and it never fails to make him shudder.

David never jokes about firing Neff, because it’s a power-play, even when in jest, so he just rolls his eyes. “Oh, and if you get a chance, could you get started on the monthly report?” He hates doing the monthly report, but the best part of being the boss is you can assign these tasks to other people. 

Which would also be a power-play, except Neff really does need to start doing the report and it was one of the main tasks listed when they applied for the job, so they knew what they were in for. David still hangs onto it as he goes into the back room to panic about the fact he is expected to play _baseball_. He likes Ronnie, and relies heavily on the friends’ discount she gives him on the work she does for the store, so he might even need to actually _try_.

This is an absolute fucking nightmare.

***

David really wants to ask why the fuck they’re having their baseball game at this time of year—surely it’s too cold?—but that would require him to admit that he has some concept of what the appropriate season for baseball actually is and he’d rather die.

That he got drawn into this at all is a total farce and on top of that Stevie had informed him while he was getting into costume that the captain of the opposing team is Ronnie’s arch-nemesis, so it really matters that they win. David kind of thought he’d left behind the sort of situation in which people have arch-nemeses when the family lost their money, but apparently not. 

The pants are, admittedly, a lot cuter on him than he was expecting, but the top could use work. He’s seen Stevie in hers, of course, but just a couple of times because he has so staunchly refused to go to games. They’d been friends an alarmingly long time before he found out she’d been on a local sports team _all along_. That particular revelation had been his worst betrayal since Alexis broke up with his stylist right before Elton John’s Oscar viewing party.

Apparently, you’re not allowed to turn up fashionably late to sports games, which is just rude. David puts so much effort into being punctual at work, he shouldn’t have to do it in his time off, as well! Even worse, they seem to be early because everyone is just kind of wandering around. To add insult to injury, the opposing team’s uniforms are definitely cuter. They have those kind-of-cute fitted baseball tees with the three-quarter lengths sleeves and—oh, huh. David suddenly understands why those are called baseball tees.

Ronnie’s teams shirts have a looser fit and shorter sleeves and they’re all red, white, and blue, like for some reason Bob’s Garage feels the need to fly the Tricolore. He’s admiring the uniform—well, okay, the _fit_ of the uniform—on a couple of the players facing away when Stevie finally returns with the pre-game nachos she’d promised him.

“ _Checking out_ the competition, eh?” she asks with a leer and David can’t bring himself to deny it.

“Can I help it if I’m trying to find a silver lining in this polyester hellscape?” He starts making quick work of the snack.

Stevie twists her mouth and then follows his gaze. There’s a small red-head who looks _very_ good in their pants and Stevie says, “You know, you have a good point.”

The red-head turns around and David gasps and waves. “It’s Rachel!”

Stevie’s face twists in confusion. “You know Rachel?”

Rachel is waving back as David replies, “Yes, of course! She’s the new vendor I was telling you about, the one with the glass artist asshole pretending to be her ‘business manager’. _You_ know Rachel?”

“I mean, only through baseball and stuff, I didn’t even know she did yarn… things. But wait, if that’s her, does that mean—”

“Oh my god, it’s him!” David says as Rachel gets the attention of the other player he’d been admiring from behind and points David and Stevie out. They turn around and of-fucking-course it’s Patrick.

Stevie cackles, “Holy shit, are you telling me that stinky-fart-moon-face is _Patrick Brewer_?”

David covers his face with his free hand—which is _definitely_ transferring salt and grease right into his pores—because he has absolutely no idea what it is doing in this moment and Rachel and Patrick are walking over. 

“Please do not tell him I said that.” David is practically begging, but the thing is, Stevie does not know about the whole spectacularly-hot-glass-studio-hook-up situation that happened less than a week ago. She’s been away and he’s been doing his best to keep her distracted so she hasn’t pulled it out of him. David still has _marks_ on his back from Patrick’s nails. The phantom throb he feels at the memory is probably just his mind and not them beginning to glow like a neon sign that says ‘I had sex with that man’.

“I mean, I can kind of see it. Ronnie says he looks like a thumb, but that’s not so bad since he grew his hair out. But he’s such a people-pleaser!”

David suddenly desperately wants to know exactly how much Stevie knows about Patrick, who she has apparently known long enough to have seen his hair change styles. Sadly, he cannot grill her on that in this moment as suddenly Patrick and Rachel are _right there_. Standing in front of them. Smiling. Though Rachel’s smile seems more enthusiastic and Patrick’s is definitely closer to smug.

“Hi, David, Stevie! I didn’t know you guys knew each other!” Rachel says, bouncing on her toes a little. She and Stevie are looking at each other in a way that is… interesting.

“We actually live together,” David explains and something passes over both their faces that makes him add—“We’re best friends.” Which. David and Stevie have only admitted _that_ particular moniker to each other once, and here he is just handing it out. It had just seemed important, somehow, that he clarify their relationship. Because of the vibes he is maybe feeling between Rachel and Stevie and absolutely nothing to do with the hint of _oh, fuck_ that had passed behind Patrick’s eyes.

“Now, David, I thought you weren’t a fan of baseball?” Patrick asks in a totally normal tone of voice that somehow feels completely filthy when combined with his expression and the fact he’s referencing something said in the midst of making out shirtless against a garage door. Patrick follows this up by taking David’s last nacho chip, which honestly should be a crime punishable by lifetime imprisonment. He grins as he pops it into his mouth; David is extremely pissed off that he really wants to kiss that grin off his face. How the fuck does he look so cute with ridiculous black lines painted over his cheeks?

“Oh no, David hates baseball,” Stevie says smugly. “He’s only here because—”

“—I’m just _such_ a good friend,” David interrupts. He is not having her tell this story right now. Nope. Not happening.

Rachel and Patrick both look less than convinced. Luckily before either of them can say anything Ronnie appears out of nowhere. “Brewer,” she says, coldly, with a nod.

“Hi Ronnie, good to see you,” Patrick replies and it is truly bizarre for David to see him obviously working so hard to turn on the charm after their previous interactions.

“Hmph,” is all Ronnie says to him before turning to David and Stevie. “Fraternising with the enemy, are we?”

David has no clue how to respond to that, but luckily Stevie appears to be bizarrely immune to Ronnie’s vibes. “Oh, David was just telling me that he’s actually trying to get Rachel and Patrick on as vendors!” Maybe not so luckily.

Rachel raises her eyebrows, while Patrick looks strangely confused at that. “No, just Rachel,” he says, giving David a look he can’t interpret.

David really wants to ask what he thought he’d gone to his studio to pitch him, but getting into that in front of Stevie is _not_ a good idea right now, so he’s left not quite sure what he should say. Luckily, Ronnie frees him from coming up with something. “Well, you can manage your business in your own time, Rose. We’re huddling up now.”

David has no idea what ‘huddling up’ entails, but Patrick and Rachel immediately nod understandingly and head off, while Stevie drags him to follow Ronnie, so he goes with it. Apparently, what it entails is the team standing in a circle while Ronnie talks incomprehensible strategy. David had honestly meant to look up the basics of baseball last night, just because Ronnie intimidated him, but then he’d started reading a really good lesbian historical romance novel and got totally distracted.

Luckily, Stevie takes pity on him. “You need to try and catch the ball. If you don’t catch it, you need to get it to the baseman before they run there, and then you need to try and hit the ball and run to the furthest base you can before the other team does that. Basically we keep going back and forth doing that until the end.”

David nods. That sounds possible, maybe? The team scatters again, apparently there’s still a few minutes before they actually start this farce. His phone buzzes and David checks it quickly, assuming it’s Alexis. She hasn’t actually informed him of any emergencies that she needs him to get her out of in the past year—unless you count her not understanding food expiry dates—but old habits die hard.

It’s not Alexis.

**iMessage:** 613-555-0189  
  
**613-555-0189:** You look extremely hot in that baseball uniform.  
  


David looks across the field and has his suspicion confirmed when he spots Patrick with his phone out, looking straight at him.  
  


**David:** How did you get this number?  
  
**613-555-0189:** It was on your business card.  
  
**David:** I don’t recall giving you my business card.  
  
**613-555-0189:** At the craft fair.  
  


David remembers the flush of embarrassment as he’d tossed the business card onto the table after Patrick told him ‘no thanks’ and walked off. Huh.

**David:** Hmm, well this doesn’t seem like a very businesslike use of that information  
  
**613-555-0189:** What if I say it’s my opinion as a business school graduate that your ass looks fucking delicious in those pants?  
  
**David:** Are you trying to put me off my game? Is this some sort of strategy?  
  
**613-555-0189:** God no, I’m planning on beating you in a fair and sportsmanlike manner, I just wanted you to know how much the outfit is working for you. I’ll stop.  
  
**David:** I didn’t tell you to stop!  
  
**David:** Wait, you’re planning on beating me? Says who!  
  
**613-555-0189:** You did tell me you aren’t a fan of baseball.  
  
**David:** That doesn’t mean you’re going to win. I’m not a fan of folding fitted sheets either but I am fucking excellent at it.  
  
**613-555-0189:** Are you fucking excellent at baseball?  
  
**David:** No comment  
  
**613-555-0189:** How about this: loser gives the winner a blowjob.  
  
**David:** Holy fuck  
  
**613-555-0189:** You did say you didn’t want me to stop  
  
**David:** I’ll take that bet  
  


“What’re you doing?” Stevie asks, trying to get a look at David’s phone, which he quickly locks.

“Why would I be doing anything?” is just about the worst thing he could say to get Stevie off his case and yet out of his mouth it comes.

A Cheshire-cat grin covers Stevie’s face in an instant and then, even worse, she looks across the field to where Patrick is still very visibly on his phone. This is yet another example of how much David needs to stop accepting bets, because if he hadn’t just accepted Patrick’s bet he might have had some higher brain function left to stop her before she said something like— “So, you and _Patrick_ , eh?”

“No.” David doesn’t sound very convincing. He should definitely be able to sound more convincing on a single syllable than that. His phone audibly buzzes in his hand.

“Mmmhm. Are you going to check that?”

David shakes his head. “Really, I should put it away. Get the game in my head, isn’t that a thing people say?”

Stevie smirks. “I could take it to your bag for you.”

David, because he is a fool, has message previews show up on his lock screen. “I think I can manage it, thanks,” he says, before power-walking over to where they’ve left their stuff. He decides to turn the phone all the way off and only has a brief pang of terror at the idea of Alexis then not being able to contact him until it’s on again, which shows a great deal of growth on both their parts. He can’t help but notice the message on screen as he holds down the button.

**613-555-0189:** Really looking forward to getting your mouth on me after I win.  
  


Fuck, this stupid baseball costume is not designed to conceal an erection. David practices deep breaths to calm down and then turns around and sees Roland shoving an entire hot dog into his mouth, which solves the issue completely. Ronnie shouts and then it’s time for this ridiculous game to begin.

***

It’s not too bad at first. He’s mostly allowed to hang out in their section of the field while the other people do the running around and Ronnie only shouts at him to “Pick up the pace, Rose” every so often. Then, Patrick is at bat. He’s posed so confidently with his bat, in what David has to assume is perfect form. It looks pretty perfect to him, at least. There’s a single curl sticking out from under his cap and David wants to _tug_ on it, it’s ridiculous.

Patrick hits the ball, but something happens and he doesn’t run. Then, the next time he doesn’t hit it. David is feeling more smug about his chances when the ball is thrown at Patrick a third time and he hits it beautifully. Nearly all of David’s brain is focussed on watching Patrick as he starts to run, and only a little on the ball, which is why he doesn’t understand why suddenly there’s an aching _smack_ into his palm until Stevie runs over to him screaming.

“Holy fuck, you _caught_ it, David!”

“I did what?” David looks at the ball in his hand in the appalling glove with a kind of awe. Maybe not paying attention is what he should have been trying all along, because what the fuck? He looks up and Patrick is staring at him, his eyes burning in a way that David is pretty sure is more than just being pissed off he’s out—he looks like he wants to eat David alive. 

Apparently, that was the other team’s third out so now they need to swap. Patrick walks up close to David as they’re moving past each other and whispers, “I’m still going to win that bet.”

David is pretty glad he isn’t expected to do anything immediately at that point because _holy fuck_ he needs to catch his breath.

***

David doesn’t repeat his spectacular feat and he feels like he’s swapped back and forth about a thousand times when he gives in and asks Stevie, “When the fuck is the intermission?”

She raises her eyebrow at him. “Intermission?”

David flails his hand so hard his baseball glove almost comes off. “Fucking _half-time_ or whatever, you know what I mean!”

Stevie smiles sweetly. “Oh, David, baseball doesn’t have a half-time.”

It takes all of David’s willpower not to just lie on the grass in protest at this news. “Isn’t the whole point of sports that in the middle there’s a break for you to get food and drink beer and have someone perform?”

Stevie looks around the field. “Who exactly do you think is going to perform, here?”

David huffs. “I don’t know, couldn’t Ronnie convince the Jazzagals to do something?”

“Half of the Jazzagals are on one of these teams, wouldn’t be much of a break for them.”

David looks over the teams and sees neither Twyla nor Jocelyn, and then realises that he has no idea who any of the other Jazzagals are. “Well, it’s not my job to source entertainment!”

“I think the game itself is supposed to be the entertainment.”

David doesn’t have a chance to argue this, because Ronnie shouts at them and he realises he has no idea how many people the other team has batted while they argued. If he missed Patrick he’ll be pissed off. For the sake of the bet, of course, and not at all because watching the way Patrick takes up his position in the hitting area is his favourite part of this whole ridiculous process.

It’s only two swaps later that suddenly the ‘seventh-inning stretch’ is being announced and everyone is moving around. “I thought you said there wasn’t an intermission!”

She shrugs. “It’s not long, just lets the crowd shake themselves out a little.”

“If the game is long enough to require a break so the audience can _stretch_ , why on earth don’t they just put an actual _break_ into it, like every civilised form of entertainment does!”

“That’s what I always say,” says a voice from the side. David turns to see it’s Rachel, who is standing next to Patrick. Patrick is guzzling a bottle of water and it’s not distracting at _all_ , even when a trickle of water escapes his mouth and— _oh, wow_ —joins a line of sweat dripping down his neck into the collar of his shirt.

“—don’t you, David?” Stevie says, but he has no idea what the start of that sentence was. She’s wearing an innocent expression that doesn’t give enough away for him to know how he should respond.

“What?”

“I was just saying how much you’re getting into the game!”

David squints at her because he doesn’t trust her tone. “Mm-mm, no, I just want us to win and get this over with, thanks.”

“You really think you’re going to pull back a win?” Patrick says.

His tone is so dismissive that Rachel nudges him and mutters, “Be nice.”

There’s something so casual and intimate about the motion that it sends a flood of panic through David. Rachel had called Patrick her ‘friend’, but he’s been so protective of her and oh fuck, is he inserting himself into something he really doesn’t want to get into here? It’s bad enough he fucked a potential vendor, if he’s messed up Rachel’s relationship just as her contract with the store got finalised it’s even worse.

David knows he should say something, but luckily a whistle blows and they all have to run into position. 

“Are you okay?” Stevie asks while they wait for their turns at bat. She looks concerned, which is just awful. His panicked thoughts must be all over his face for her to be looking at him like that.

“I’m fine!” He doesn’t sound fine. Fuck, if she’s worried anyway, he might as well ask her. “Do you happen to know anything about whether those two are…” he raises his eyebrows significantly.

Stevie’s mouth twists—she’s not even teasing him about asking, which is weird. “So, I don’t know for sure? Sometimes I think they have vibes, but I might just be seeing things.”

“You talking about Patrick and Rachel?” asks the woman standing in front of Stevie, who David is fairly sure he’s never met before, and hadn’t actually considered might be able to _hear_ them.

All his instincts tell him to deny, but if there’s a chance she has some information he doesn’t… “Yes?”

The woman smiles, “They’re cute, right? Well, they used to be together, but they definitely aren’t any more, it’s a whole story. Patrick was dating Ken—do you know Ken?—for a while, but they broke up a year or so back and I think he’s single now.” She gives Stevie a significant look. “I’m pretty sure Rachel’s single, too.”

“Thanks, Tracy,” Stevie says in a slightly strangled voice. David does his best to keep his face neutral, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment. He’s incredibly grateful that the woman—Tracy’s—time to bat comes up.

“Who even is that?” David hisses at Stevie.

She shrugs. “That’s Tracy! She’s friends with Ray.”

Well. That explains how much she apparently knows about other people’s relationships, but it also means the fact that David and Stevie were asking will be known by half of Elm County by the next morning.

“And why were _you_ so interested in that information, anyway?” he has to ask.

“Oh look! Tracy’s on first, gotta go!”

David actually manages to hit the ball well enough to get onto first and with him, Tracy, and Stevie slowly moving around the bases they manage to claw back to a tie. David almost feels like he’s getting it as they go through the eighth inning and Ronnie even tells him he’s doing well. 

Even so, he’s incredibly glad when Stevie tells him the ninth is the last one they’ll have to do. He has hated this endeavour slightly less than expected—he might even consider returning to watch for the snacks and the ogling opportunities, though he can’t imagine how dull sitting around for a whole game would be. No way would he play again, though. He’s glad they have a “no repeating a bet” rule, even if that means he can’t make Stevie binge _Downton Abbey_ again.

It’s close, but the other team is winning when David is finally allowed to take off the monstrous glove for the last time. He would absolutely be into sucking Patrick’s dick, generally, but as they get closer to the end he’s feeling more and more how much he wants to beat him at this. Then Roland starts trash-talking and he doesn’t feel sick any more. He’s determined.

The ball is thrown. He swings his bat. And he misses.

“Nearly over, guys, better get the grill going!” Roland shouts, even though he’s _on David’s team_.

David very nearly gets distracted by the mention of the grill—why had no one told him about this before?—but catches sight of Patrick. He looks smug. He’s smirking at David like the game’s already won.

“Okay, throw the thing!” David shouts at the ball-throwing-person. He’s ready and—he hits it. Then he’s running and Stevie’s screaming and Ronnie’s encouraging him and he’s halfway around and he’s _still going_. Another voice joins in—is that Rachel?—and he’s passing third and no one’s stopped him so he _throws_ himself at the home plate head first, smacking it with his fingers.

It’s a bit of a blur after that. Stevie cackles with glee and Ronnie looks happy and _Tracy_ is hugging him, even though he still doesn’t know exactly who she is. It remains too cold to be outside, especially for sports, but David feels the rush of victory deep in his gut as he meets Patrick’s eyes across the field. They’re intense, a gaze hot enough to chase the last of the chill from David’s bones.

But first, food. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me there would be a barbecue!” David says around a mouthful of slider.

Stevie shakes her head, while carefully trying to pick up her hot dog without the mountain of toppings falling off. “Honestly? I forgot.”

“How can you forget a _barbecue_!”

“Are you telling me that you wouldn’t have complained all week if you knew there would be grilled meats afterwards?”

“I would have complained at least thirteen per cent less!” David replies, gesturing so wildly with his hot dog he nearly smacks Patrick in the face with it.

“What are you complaining about now?” Patrick asks. He looks amused, but there’s a hint of banked fire behind his eyes that makes David shiver.

“I forgot to tell David there’d be a barbecue after the game!”

“How could you not mention that? It’s the best part!” Rachel exclaims, appearing from behind Patrick.

“Exactly!” David says. “I’m glad someone gets it.”

Patrick shakes his head. “Just because it’s Rachel’s favourite food.”

Rachel smacks him on the arm. “As if you don’t perk up at the very _mention_ of a hot dog!”

“Oh _does_ he?” Stevie asks and Patrick, who was not that long ago sending David dirty texts in the middle of a baseball field, goes bright red.

“I mean, I can’t blame him, I personally _love_ a hot dog,” David can’t help but add.

“You’re all perverts,” Patrick says. He’s doing his best to frown, but David can see the smile hidden in the corners of it.

Stevie blinks innocently. “Whatever could you mean?”

“Maybe Patrick’s just hungry. I’m sure he’ll feel better once he gets some _meat_ in him,” Rachel says, with a far-too-knowing look David’s way.

Patrick throws up his hands. “You know what? I’m going to get a slider.”

Rachel grins at him. “Get me one, too. And a weiner!” She looks right at Stevie. “I like them all.”

David senses this is his cue to give them some space and he’s finished his plate, so he says, “A woman after my own heart. I’m getting more; Stevie, you want anything?”

“I think I want to try one of the sliders.” Stevie is staring right back at Rachel and Patrick and David make awkward eye contact as they walk away, but they only make it halfway to the grill before they’re both laughing.

“What is a slider even a euphemism for here?” David asks, once he has enough breath back to speak.

“I’m too afraid to think even about it.” 

The ever-present tension between them is down to a background hum after that, as they head to the grill. David gets himself a slider and a hot dog, as well as the slider for Stevie. Patrick meets him in front of the condiments and sides table.

“What… is that?” Patrick asks, pointing at a dish of brightly coloured things covered in melted cheese.

“ _That_ is Jocelyn Schitt’s Dorito surprise.” David has seen it at any number of events.

Patrick pokes at it warily with a serving spoon. “Is it… good?”

David purses his lips. “I haven’t tried it.”

“I’ll try it if you do,” Patrick suggests with a wink.

David shakes his head. “Nope, mm-mm, no way.” He’s not going to admit that the main thing stopping him is the fear he’ll like it.

Stevie and Rachel have moved closer to each other. “Maybe we should just… drop off theirs and leave them to it?” Patrick suggests.

“Ugh, okay. I just need to dress Stevie’s slider and then I will allow _you_ to drop them off; I’m not getting close to whatever is happening there.” David gets to work on the ridiculous combination of toppings Stevie insists on.

“I wouldn’t either, except I know Rachel gets hangry if she doesn’t eat quickly after a game and I doubt it will help with… that.”

David finishes assembling Stevie’s monstrosity and hands it to Patrick. “God speed.”

He makes his own way to an empty table, keeping an eye on Patrick, who drops off the food pretty quickly. Stevie and Rachel both laugh at something when he does, however, and when Patrick makes his way over to David—and how strange they both assumed that would be the case—his cheeks seem distinctly flushed.

“What did they say?”

“Hm?” Patrick replies, taking a large bite of his hot dog—not in any way that would traditionally be read as sexy, yet David still finds it kind of hot.

“You’re _blushing_ , clearly they said something.” This makes Patrick blush more, which David thoroughly enjoys. “I didn’t know you _could_ blush.”

Patrick looks surprised at that. “Oh?”

David raises his eyebrows. “I mean, I don’t often look at someone who instigates spontaneous rough sex and messages me about blowjobs while in public and think ‘oh, they’re easily flustered’.”

Patrick is definitely blushing now, but he looks pleased under it. “I guess you just bring out that side of me, David.”

Thank fuck for David’s olive skin because hopefully that will hide the way _his_ face is heating up in response to those words and the intense eye contact that accompanies them. David shoves the last bite of his slider in his mouth so he doesn’t have to come up with a response just yet.

Patrick’s eyes are laughing, but he just finishes his own food. There’s an awkward moment when they’re both done, before Patrick says “So… when would you like to collect your winnings?”

David has absolutely done too much physical activity, followed by consuming too much grilled meat, to feel as helplessly turned on as he suddenly is, but it’s not his fault. Patrick’s looking at him like he can’t wait to get his mouth on David and he’s actually been kind of _nice_ to him. David has known himself for long enough to recognise that, while it’s not exactly healthy, very little works for him quite as well as having an asshole start being nice.

David _definitely_ doesn’t want to think about how he’s probably repeating the sort of mistakes he thought he’d grown out of, so he says, “How about now?”

Patrick looks around. “Hmm, not sure this is the best location.”

David should probably drop it, arrange some later assignation, but something about this whole sweaty post-sports, still-in-costume situation is really working for him. Or maybe it’s just Patrick, who is wearing an expression of concentration that’s quite frankly adorable, and still has that curl poking out from under the hat. “I hear under the bleachers is traditional for this sort of thing.”

Something interesting happens on Patrick’s face then, a surge of emotion David can’t read, but it’s quickly replaced by the sort of intensity he remembers from the studio. “That sounds perfect,” Patrick says, before striding off in the direction of the bleachers.

It takes a moment for David’s brain to connect up that this is actually happening and he should get up and follow. He can’t help but glance over to Rachel and Stevie, but apparently luck is on David’s side for once, because they’re sitting with their heads bent together, paying no attention at all to the outside world.

David tries to look casual and relaxed as he follows Patrick, which he probably fails at because the bob of Patrick’s ass as he walks is ramping him up even more than the whole scenario they have going on. David really never harboured any secret jock fantasies, but this is a scenario straight out of porn and he can’t help but love it.

Patrick doesn’t stop when they get out of sight under the bleachers, keeps leading David deeper, far enough that David has to say, “At a certain point it feels less like your going to suck my cock and more like you’re trying to get somewhere you can murder me without being caught.”

Patrick turns back for the first time since he strode off. “I’m planning on making you come hard enough people might _think_ you’re being murdered, so the more privacy the better.”

David can’t even reply before Patrick’s pulling David’s hat off and kissing him, deliciously rough from the moment he starts. David moans—loudly—and okay, maybe Patrick had a point, but David’s not going to tell him that. Instead, David flicks Patrick’s hat out of the way and gets his fingers into those curls, loving the feel of them coming back into shape after being flattened down for so long.

Patrick whines as David tugs on his hair and drags their hips together and—holy fuck, he’s already hard.

“This is really working for you, huh?” David asks, when the kiss is broken so Patrick can bite along his jaw.

Patrick grinds into David hard. “You look so fucking hot in that uniform, David.”

“I mean, this top leaves a lot to be desired, but I’ve kind of come around to the pants.”

Patrick hums. “Yeah, I think you’d look even better if you were playing for my team.”

That’s not quite what David meant, but he’s not going to argue it when Patrick’s already sliding to his knees. He looks incredible down there, his mop of curls a total mess, almost shaking with lust. He noses along the line of David’s cock, hard enough to be obvious through the pants. “You look so good on your knees.”

Patrick whines right into David’s dick, _fuck._ He looks up at David with his pupils totally blown. “I need to get my mouth on your dick _now_ ,’ he says, getting David’s pants open.

David has to reach up and hold the bars under the seats with one hand to keep his balance, while he uses his other to rub his thumb along Patrick’s lower lip. Patrick bites at the pad of it and, as fun as teasing him is, they need to get this moving. David gets the band of his underwear tucked under his balls and then holds the back of Patrick’s head. There’s something so delicious about feeling the contrast of his longer curls on top and the fuzz of the hair on the back of his head at the same time. “Go ahead.”

Patrick uses one hand to hold the base of David’s cock and the other grips David’s hip. He starts with wet strokes of his tongue, but then gets his mouth around the head and flicks his tongue in a way that makes David frantically tighten his grip on the bar above him. Patrick is so gorgeous, it’s impossible to look away from the way his eyes are closed as his mouth works so desperately. He’s so obviously into this, blissed out on blowing David.

David doesn’t tighten his grip on Patrick’s hair and thrust into his mouth, though he probably wouldn’t have hesitated the other time they hooked up. The vibe now is so different—where that was rough, this feels almost… delicate. It feels like the two of them and these bleachers are all that exist in this world and David doesn’t want to break that by doing something wrong.

Patrick starts to suck in earnest, sliding down to his fist on each stroke and it’s better than it has any right to be. David’s not sure the last time he was so undone by a blowjob, but it’s also been a long time since he got a semi-public blowjob from someone he thought was kind of a dick.

Patrick pulls away and David makes an embarrassing noise as his hips try to follow, even as Patrick’s fist keeps moving. “Could you talk to me?” He’s not looking up, seems kind of embarrassed to ask, but David’s still not going to let him off.

“I thought you preferred when I wasn’t talking?”

Patrick bites at David’s hip. “I can admit when I’m wrong.”

It flashes through David’s mind to say, _So are you going to actually consider selling at my store_ , but now is so very much not the time for that. “Patrick, suck my cock. Your mouth is so good—I need it back on me _now_.”

David’s maybe laying it on a little thick, but Patrick moans loudly and drags his mouth back to the head of David’s cock. Before he continues, though, he meets David’s eyes. “Also, you can pull my hair and fuck my throat. If you want.” He does something with his eye that David’s pretty sure is supposed to be a fucking _wink_ and that is it. 

He tightens his hand in Patrick’s hair and starts thrusting as soon as Patrick’s mouth is open, starting shallow and building up.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hungry for it, so fucking desperate for my cock,” he says, not even thinking, just trying to keep talking because Patrick asked for it. He’s babbling, but Patrick’s mouth feels so fucking good that he can’t give enough of his brain to try and regulate it. “I bet you’ve dreamed about this, on your knees under the bleachers for the star player after the game.”

Patrick groans so hard David can feel it in his toes and he reaches down to get his own dick out. Clearly, David was onto something with that fantasy. “Yeah, you love it so much you have to touch yourself, can’t even keep your hand off your cock while you’re sucking one. I bet you spent the whole game hoping I’d win so that you’d get your chance to do this.”

Patrick makes a noise that is equal parts turned on and offended and if his mouth weren’t full David _knows_ he’d be objecting. Fuck, when did this get to be so _fun_? “You probably planned this whole thing so you’d get a taste of my cock, wanted to drag me here right from home plate.”

Patrick is groaning and whining around David’s cock, clearly offronted as much as he’s into it. He moves so easily where he’s guided by David’s hand in his hair, his shoulder shifting as his hand flies over his own cock and it’s all so much. “Fuck, I’m going to come.” He pulls Patrick’s head away, just enough focus to make sure to tug his hair in the process.

Patrick moves easily and switches to stroking David’s cock with his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Your cock is so fucking pretty, David,” he says, voice rough, and then he fucking _licks his lips_ , staring at David’s cock like he’s desperate to have it back in his mouth. He never stops moving the other hand he has on himself.

David comes so hard he’d collapse if one hand didn’t have a total death grip above him. Patrick strokes him through it all and when he finally releases David’s cock he throws his head back and David gets to see him come. Patrick’s so fucking beautiful like this: on his knees, arm muscles straining as he gets himself off on how much he loved blowing David. It’s fucking glorious.

David gets enough control over his body to get his clothes back in order and then collapses onto the ground next to Patrick. It’s not like he cares about these clothes getting dirty and his legs feel kind of like jello.

“Well, that was nice,” he says inanely, but then Patrick’s laughing and David’s laughing, too and it’s really silly, but also… nice. He likes the way Patrick looks when he laughs; his eyes scrunch up and his cheeks puff out and— "Wow, your makeup isn't smudged at _all_." David really can't believe he didn't even think of that until this moment, he's pretty sure in any other situation he'd have been deeply concern about getting whatever it is on his dick.

Patrick starts laughing again and it's infectious. He shakes his head once it finally dies away. “I can’t believe you got a home run.”

David shrugs and waves a hand airily. “Some of us are just naturally talented.”

Patrick twists his mouth like David’s a mystery to him, which is ridiculous. David spent _years_ of his life attempting to cultivate an air of mystery and he never once succeeded. “I guess some of us are.”

***

**iMessage:** Alexis  
  
**Alexis:** omg David 😮😨  
  
**David:** What?   
  
**Alexis:** You look so cute in your little baseball costume! 😻🏏🎾  
  
**David:** What the fuck  
  
**Alexis:** Stevie sent me pictures!!!! 💪My brother the jock!!! 🏃😱🤣  
  
**David:** Oh good god delete them immediately  
  
**Alexis:** Hmmmmmmm no 😘  
  


***

**iMessage:** Johnny  
  
**Johnny:** Hi son! Stevie told me about your baseball game today. Wish I could have been there to see it: my son the MVP! Proud of you. Love, Dad  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FTR, when David references the Tricolore he means the French flag, as I've been informed some other countries also call their flags the tricolour or some variation thereon 😆
> 
> And I'd like to thank [this art](https://twitter.com/clakearts/status/1306685789317730304?s=21) for the image of a single curl poking out from under Patrick's hat.


	4. Chapter 4

Patrick cannot stop thinking about David Rose. Which has been true since he met him, but what’s ridiculous is that now he can’t stop feeling _fond_. It’s just that something felt so different on the day of the baseball game. He’d actually had a conversation with David—they’d laughed together! And, of course, had some more of the hottest sex Patrick’s ever experienced in his life.

He doesn’t want to think about how many times he’s opened his text message thread with David from the game and closed it before he could send anything. He just doesn’t know what he could say. _Hey David, I’ve been a passive-aggressive asshole to you nearly every time we’ve met, but I really liked making fun of our friends together and you have a world-class dick. Wanna hang?_

It doesn’t help that Rachel is utterly gone on Stevie and keeps talking about her and how she thinks maybe Stevie likes her back, and what does he think? As if it wasn’t totally obvious at the game that Stevie’s into her. Rachel has been nursing the crush for a while, over baseball games and running into Stevie in the area, but now it has hit new heights. This also means that she keeps mentioning David, asking if she should talk to him about Stevie and then talking herself out of it.

Now that her contract with David is finalised he doesn’t even have an excuse to email, though the thought makes him wince. Patrick has sent many passive-aggressive emails in his life, but his first to David was him in top form and now it all just feels a bit much. He has tried to reassure himself that David had replied in kind, but looking back he can’t help but find David’s obvious desire to wind him up kind of charming. 

Patrick has hooked up with guys before. It’s not his favourite, he’s more a relationship guy, but he’s never gotten so caught up over a hook-up like this.

It’s three days after the baseball game when Patrick finally gets tired enough of both Rachel and himself that he decides to kill two birds with one stone.

**iMessage:** David Rose  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Not to go extremely middle school on you or anything, but Rachel has a huge crush on Stevie so could you let me know if she has a chance there?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I mean… I assume she does after the whole Slider Incident but I don’t want to tell her to go for it if I’m reading things wrong.  
  
**David Rose:** I cannot believe I am redacted years old and I just got the equivalent of a note saying ‘does your friend like my friend please check y or n’  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Listen, Rachel is a grown woman who can make her own choices, I’m just protective of her.  
  
**David Rose:** You? Protective of Rachel? You don’t say!  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** … I probably deserve that  
  
**David Rose:** For the record, I do find this instance of your little guard dog thing somewhat charming, though I’m not sure Rachel will appreciate it  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** God please don’t tell her about this  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** OR STEVIE  
  
**David Rose:** Don’t worry, I’m about to tell you that Stevie has been driving me nuts with how she won’t shut up about how hot Rachel is and should she try and do something about it  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Ah, so we have achieved mutually assured destruction.  
  
**David Rose:** Exactly  
  


***

**iMessage:** David Rose  
  
**David Rose:** Are you busy on Thursday night?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I thought booty calls weren’t supposed to be arranged in advance?  
  
**David Rose:** That is NOT what is happening here  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Sorry, sorry! I may have had a drink and that makes me think I’m funnier than I am  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** What’s happening on Thursday?  
  
**David Rose:** I notice you haven’t said if you’re free or not  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Am I not going to find out what this is about unless I commit to it first?  
  
**David Rose:** Whatever, if you can’t come that’s fine, even if we’ll need to find another sixth. The real question is: is Rachel free on Thursday?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I know that you have the ability to text her directly to ask that.  
  
**David Rose:** Have you never seen a rom-com?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I saw About A Boy?  
  
**David Rose:** That’s not a rom-com! The romance storyline is extremely secondary to the story of Will and Marcus’ developing paternal friendship  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** But it stars Hugh Grant!  
  
**David Rose:** Not every film starring Hugh Grant is a rom-com!  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Sounds fake, but okay.  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** What is it that I would be understanding if I had rom-com experience?  
  
**David Rose:** Clearly, I am trying to engineer a situation in which Stevie and Rachel will see each other  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** OH   
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Good plan. So what is Thursday?  
  
**David Rose:** Games night! I already have two other people coming so we just need you and Rachel to make it six, for ultimate gameplay   
  
**Patrick Brewer:** You feel very strongly about that number don’t you?  
  
**David Rose:** If you’re going to have a games night you should do it properly!  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Of course  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I should probably warn you that I can be a bit competitive.  
  
**David Rose:** I may have noticed that at the baseball performance… but you didn’t seem to mind losing nearly as much as I expected  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Well, you gave me quite the reward for it  
  
**David Rose:** So you expect a prize even if you lose, is that it?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I’m a millennial, you know how we are. Grew up getting participation trophies.  
  
**David Rose:** Excuse me, did you just call my dick a PARTICIPATION TROPHY  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** … there are so many jokes I could make right now and they would all make it worse.  
  
**David Rose:** You know what, maybe I’ll just invite Rachel myself and find another sixth  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I’m sorry for implicitly calling your dick a participation trophy, it’s a great dick, it deserves better than that  
  
**David Rose:** … I’m listening  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Fuck, David.   
  
**David Rose:** Go on  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I’m pretty sure sucking you off under the bleachers is the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life  
  
**David Rose:** Was that really about my cock in particular, or more the whole ambiance?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I love that you just used the word ambiance in a sext  
  
**David Rose:** Who says we’re sexting?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Are you not? I’m pretty sure I am.  
  
**David Rose:** You didn’t answer my question. The ambiance one  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** The fantasy is blowing the extremely attractive MVP of the opposing team, but it is now definitely about your cock in particular  
  
**David Rose:** I don’t know, that sounds pretty general  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Well, when I get myself off every morning thinking about the taste of you deep in my throat and remembering you talking about how desperate for cock I am? That is definitely specific.  
  
**David Rose:** Oh  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** So are we sexting yet? Because if not, I’m going to need to take a break from replying while I jerk off.  
  
**David Rose:** We’re definitely sexting  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Are you going to stroke that gorgeous cock for me?  
  
**David Rose:** Fuck yes  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Good, that’s so hot, you want me to suck you again?  
  
**David Rose:** I think it’s my turn to get you down my throat  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** God, I bet you’re so good at that  
  
**David Rose:** I guess you’ll have to beat me at something some time to find out  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Does that mean I’m only allowed to blow you when I lose?   
  
**David Rose:** That’s true, you’re so thirsty you might start throwing games  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Fuck, David  
  
**David Rose:** Which do you think is worse? Your competitive side or your cock-hungry side?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I’m going to win and then I’m going to swallow your dick  
  
**David Rose:** Hmm no I think you have to choose one or the other  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** We’ll see  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Tell me about what you’re doing?  
  
**David Rose:** I’m lying in my bed fucking my fist  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** That’s so hot, have you got your fist nice and wet for that beautiful cock?  
  
**David Rose:** Dripping  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** You should fuck me like that  
  
**David Rose:** Yeah? Prep you so good, get you so sloppy and wet that I can just sink right in?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Yes  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I’m gonna come  
  
**David Rose:** Me too, fuck  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** That was very hot  
  
**David Rose:** Thanks   
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Send me your address  
  
**David Rose:** What?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** For Thursday. Me and Rachel will be there.  
  
**David Rose:** Oh right yes of course yeah  
  
**David Rose:** We start at 8pm, being late isn’t cute. Bring wine.  
  


***

The thing is, since Patrick and Rachel have become friends again—have, in fact, become better friends than they’d really been able to be for the last few years of their romantic relationship—Patrick has been really open with her. They don’t necessarily discuss their sex lives much, but they don’t avoid it. They’ve had a lot of sex with each other and it’s been years now, but they don’t tip-toe around that reality.

Which is why it’s probably weird that Rachel doesn’t know that he and David have hooked up. After the first time, Patrick told himself it was just them working something out of their systems, but then it happened again at the baseball game and now they’ve not only sexted, but sexted with heavy implication of future hook-ups. So it’s definitely weird he hasn’t said anything about it to Rachel

He can’t even blame it on it being casual sex, because Rachel absolutely knows about the other handful of men he’s had casual sex with in the last couple of years. Just like he knows about the couple she hooked up with who made her start to question her own sexuality and the people of various genders she’s been with since. And he knows that she’s so far gone on Stevie that he received a text from her this morning where she asked him whether it was the right level of slutty to wear a top to the games night that revealed her bra straps. 

Patrick is fully aware how easily he falls into a pattern of keeping things to himself. His parents hadn’t known he had taken up glasswork until his mentor had moved away and he’d bought her house, including the studio. When they’d been dating, Ken had asked him if he was out to his parents and when he admitted he wasn’t, but he wanted to be, Ken then helped him work himself up to telling them. He has no idea how long it would have taken him to come out to them and to Rachel if Ken was the sort of person who shied away from difficult conversations. 

Patrick has had some therapy now, worked some stuff out. There are a lot of reasons he struggles with telling people things: insecurity, the weight of expectations, a desire to make people like him.

But also… he really, really hates being wrong about things. And while he would be happy to maintain that David is the one to have made a terrible first impression, he thinks he may have been wrong to judge him quite so harshly based on that, and not just because of the great sex. But he can’t quite bring himself to tell Rachel about whatever’s happening between them when she witnessed him at his most passive-aggressive with David.

Patrick has definitely gotten better at admitting that he’s not always right, but it’s still difficult for him. Letting Rachel know about the hooking up and, more than that, the way he thinks he actually might really _like_ David, feels like giving her a license to tell him ‘I told you so’. Plus, although he saw a different side to David at the baseball game, he’s not sure he’s ready yet to admit to having judged him too quickly.

***

Arriving at the address David gave him, Patrick is surprised to find a place that’s a lot more quaint than he was expecting. It’s a small two-storey house with a neat front lawn and some lovely flowers hanging by the door that—on closer inspection while they wait for the door to be answered—Patrick is pretty sure are incredibly convincing fakes.

David opens the door with an expression bordering on a grimace. “Hi, hello, come in,” he says all in a rush, gesturing for Patrick and Rachel to walk past him into a living room that manages to be both homey and incredibly stylish. 

“I brought wine,” Patrick says, gesturing with the bottle.

“Thanks so much for inviting us,” Rachel says, while obviously looking around to see where Stevie is.

“You’re so welcome,” David replies. Patrick is, as always, struck by how attractive he is, but that thought is secondary to realising he looks stressed-out and distracted. Before Patrick can ask what’s up, Stevie bursts out of an adjoining door.

“David, I don’t know why you thought we should choose _now_ to become people who attempt to cook—” she stops speaking when she spots Patrick and Rachel. “Oh! Hi! Wow!” Her voice sounds high and strange and her smile is even less convincing than David’s. “I didn’t know you’d be here so early!”

Patrick frowns. “Um, sorry, David said it started at eight?” It’s maybe a few minutes before, but David had specifically said not to be late. “Is there something I can help with?”

“Oh, um, no, just a bit of a… situation in the kitchen. Why don’t you two have a seat while David, um, helps me?” Stevie exchanges a panicked look with David.

“Patrick’s pretty great in the kitchen, actually,” Rachel says. Her eyes are all big and concerned looking at Stevie. 

“I am! David, why don’t you and I see if I can help you figure it out and Stevie can keep Rachel company.”

David looks at Patrick like he’s crazy before blinking with understanding. “Right! Mhm, yes, okay, sure. Stevie, be a good hostess for our guest!” 

David drags Patrick into the kitchen which is… a disaster. There are dishes and ingredients and splashes of sauces everywhere. “Wow.”

“Okay, I thought you were in here to _help_ , but if you—”

Patrick holds up his hands to stop David. “Sorry, hey, we’ll figure it out. Could you explain what… happened?” Patrick does his very best to be soothing and project sincerity, which is a struggle because the extent of the disaster zone he’s stepped into is impressive.

David squints at Patrick, like he’s trying to test him with his eyes. “So, I thought, as we’re having company, we could try and cook! And this website said that seven layer dip is a good choice and easy to make, but then—” he gestures wildly around the room and then covers his hands with his face.

Patrick has made seven layer dip before, but this never happened. “So, uh, what were the layers you were trying?”

“Refried beans, salsa, guac, sour cream, cheese, tomatoes, olives,” David lists off in a rush, like he’s repeated them a dozen times before. “But it didn’t mention you need to soak the beans overnight and the lid on Stevie’s busted blender is broken so the salsa went everywhere and the avocados for the guacamole are like _rocks_ , how are you supposed to mash that?”

Patrick puts his hands on David’s arms to stop their flailing and meets his eyes. “Okay, wow, so you were going to make all that from scratch?”

David bites his lip and shrugs and Patrick has to remind himself that this is _not_ a situation where he should be thinking about kissing him. 

“That’s very impressive. I think usually when people talk about an easy seven-layer dip they just buy canned refried beans and pre-made salsa. When I made it, I _did_ make my own guac, but you have to time it just right to get the avocados when they’re actually soft enough.”

David blinks a few times. “I could have just _bought_ a can of beans?”

He looks utterly indignant and Patrick knows his mind should be focusing on wondering what sort of life David’s managed to lead where he didn’t know that, but that is secondary to how much effort he’s putting into not leaning in for that kiss. He pats David’s arms before letting go and stepping back to try and stifle the urge. “Okay, well we can definitely figure something out, but I think we should start with cleaning up.”

David nods and looks around nervously. Patrick’s clearly going to have to take the lead here. It’s not too bad, once they have everything where it needs to be. As Patrick tries to pull together the remaining ingredients for a pico de gallo, he feels like David has relaxed enough for him to ask, “So, not much experience in the kitchen, eh?”

David wraps his arms around himself and rolls his eyes. “Is it that obvious?” he asks sarcastically. “But, well… growing up I didn’t actually know where the kitchen in my house was until I was, like, ten maybe? I wasn’t in there much anyway and the food always managed to appear. Then I kind of lived on take out and delivery until I moved here and I was, um, living in a place without any cooking facilities for a while? But I figured it was time I try and figure it out.”

Patrick nods, trying to show he was listening intently while not revealing his surprise. He’d definitely got the impression that David came from money, but not _that much_ money. “It’s impressive that you’d try it, then.”

“Hm,” David looks amused. “You know that should be patronising, but I feel like you actually mean it and that might be worse.”

Patrick shakes his head. “Sorry, I get the feeling you might be allergic to sincerity, but I just know how hard it can be to try new things.”

“Oh?” David’s tone is curious, but not pushing it, and yet Patrick feels compelled to answer. Something about the easy rhythm of chopping makes him feel oddly comfortable here.

“I’ve only been doing glasswork for a few years. I kind of, um, came into some money and I quit my job. I basically up-ended my whole life to do something different. I was at a startup, before, in accounting.”

David laughs a little. “Yes, I guessed that from your little DVF CBD act after your name in that email.”

Patrick can feel himself blushing. Even at the height of his work stress he’s not sure he ever sent emails quite as passive-aggressive as those he’d sent to David about working with Rachel. “It’s MBA CPA, for the record.” He’s not going to admit he’d never actually even got his CPA, though he almost certainly would have if he’d stayed on that career path. He’d just _really_ wanted to sound impressive in the email.

“Oh, terribly sorry, wouldn’t want to get those wrong.” David’s teasing tone is quickly becoming one of Patrick’s favourites, despite how it would have been so deeply annoying not that long ago. “So, why glass?”

“Well, I had a business trip to Seattle and while I was there I got sick of sitting around in conference rooms and I ended up at this exhibit at the Seattle centre there—”

“Chihuly Garden and Glass?”

Patrick pauses his knife so he can meet David’s eyes properly and smile. “Yes, exactly. And seeing Chihuly’s work just… I don’t know. It opened something up in me. I got really into finding out everything I could about it and then Rachel got us this glass-blowing experience as an anniversary present and I was addicted.” He hadn’t meant to say quite that much, especially not the anniversary mention. “Uh, Rachel and I aren’t together now, obviously.” He wants to add _but we’re still friends_ , because that is so part of ‘how he tells this story’ now, but manages to hold that back; David clearly knows.

“Yeah, I figured that if you guys were trying to negotiate a polya thing with Stevie it would have come up by now.” David’s tone is nonchalant, while Patrick, who has now met people with all sorts of relationship dynamics, still feels like they don't sound natural for him to talk about.

“No, no, I’m a monogamous, commitment-to-one-person, type of guy,” Patrick replies, not really thinking about how that might come across to someone he’s been having casual sex with. “I mean, um, obviously there are, uh, exceptions?”

“Exceptions, huh? Is that what I am?” David makes the words sound dirty and Patrick’s suddenly deeply aware of how close together they’re standing. 

The doorbell rings and breaks the moment, which is good because Patrick’s not sure what he might have said next. What he’d wanted to say was _You don’t have to be_ , which is… something he needs to think about later. “You can greet your guests if you want, I’m almost finished up here.”

David shakes his head. “Stevie can handle it; I’d be a terrible host if I just abandoned you.”

Patrick finishes the quick version of his story as he finishes the pico and gets the avocados out of the oven, where they have managed to soften enough to be mashed. He tells David about how he left his home town with no real plans, but then found an apprenticeship with a glass blower not far from here. She’d decided to move away six months ago and Patrick bought her house, including the glass studio, from her when she left.

Once he has things mixed up, Patrick turns to David. “Do you still want to do the layers thing? It would take too long to save the beans, even if you had a pressure cooker, but we still have at least… five layers?”

David shakes his head. “Five layer dip isn’t a thing. People can just enjoy them separately.”

The pico de gallo, guacamole, and sour cream are decanted beautifully by David into some stunning little ceramic bowls. “These were made by Meena, one of the vendors with Rose Apothecary—she’s incredible.”

Patrick nods, struck how fond David sounds every time he talks about the artisans he works with. He’s tempted to say something about it, but Stevie opens the door out of nowhere. 

She pouts dramatically when she sees them picking up the bowls to bring out. “Damn, it had been so long I was _sure_ you two were banging one out.”

“Stevie!” David’s horrified face is almost cute enough to distract from thinking _If David told Stevie she might tell Rachel, shit._

Stevie shrugs and looks around. “Wow, Patrick must have performed some sort of miracle in here.”

Patrick shakes his head, trying to seem casual. “Nah, just a bit of clean-up work and a new play.”

They bring the chips and dip out to the living room and Patrick is surprised to see Ken talking to Rachel and another woman. “Ken!” Patrick drops the food on the table so he can meet his friend for a hug. “I thought you said you didn’t know David!”

Ken grins. “I really don’t, but Heather invited me.” He gestures to the woman with a significant look and Patrick realises this is the girlfriend he’d mentioned last time they saw each other. “Heather, Patrick, Patrick, Heather.”

Patrick grins. “It’s great to meet you! Ken’s told me a lot about you.”

She laughs. “I’d say it’s all lies, but I don’t think he’s capable of them.” They both laugh at the way Ken pouts because it’s absolutely true. “I didn’t know David was seeing someone.”

Patrick’s brain pauses for a moment while he tries to process what she said. “Oh! No, we aren’t, we’re just—” He should say friends, but are they actually friends? 

“We’re friends,” David says. Patrick hadn’t even noticed him coming over. “Ken, was it? So nice to meet you, I’m David.”

Ken waves cornily. “Thanks so much for letting Heather bring me along, from what I’ve heard your games nights are legendary!”

David preens a little. “Well, I do my best. How do you two know each other, then?” he asks, gesturing between Ken and Patrick. Patrick can see Rachel smirking from behind Ken.

Patrick’s not sure what the best version of a response is in front of Ken’s new partner, but luckily Ken speaks up so he doesn’t have to. “Oh, me and Patrick used to date, but we’re just good friends now.” Ken wraps his arm around Heather’s waist as if to emphasise the point. 

Stevie snorts. “I feel like we need to draw a chart of all the exes in the room.”

Ken laughs, bless him, because Patrick is feeling deeply awkward and also curious (Does Stevie know he and Rachel used to be together? What other exes are there here?).

David waves his hands. “Right! Now everyone knows who everyone is, let’s open the wine and have some of these snacks that Patrick and I made.” He gestures proudly and Patrick chooses not to mention that his main contribution had been making the mess that Patrick had arrived to.

“Oh, I brought some cheeses, too.” Heather holds up a bag.

David claps happily. “And this is why you get invited to games night!”

She laughs. “David, you literally sell my cheeses, they’re not hard for you to get.” She turns to Patrick and Rachel and explains, “I own a goat farm that supplies Rose Apothecary.”

“Oh! David’s going to be carrying my yarn soon,” Rachel sounds so excited about the whole thing, like she hasn’t quite been in front of Patrick. He suspects his grouchiness was making her hold it back.

“Amazing, I always love when someone joins the Rose Apothecary family! I’ve been exclusive with them for a couple of years now, so if you need any insight from another vendor we should talk.”

Everyone gets themselves some wine and some snacks and settles in while David explains the first game of the night.

***

Patrick was _definitely_ wrong about David. Not in his initial opinion, no—he’d been wrong to think he’d misjudged him, to think that maybe David isn’t actually the most annoying person ever. The first game of the night is Celebrity, and somehow everyone insists that Patrick and David be a pair. Considering the purpose of the evening is to get Rachel and Stevie closer, this makes sense, though it makes it feel alarmingly like they’ve been split into couples.

Apparently, David and Patrick share approximately zero cultural references—who tries to describe Michelle Obama by saying ‘sleeveless queen in Jason Wu’?—and David is very happy to place all the blame for that on Patrick.

The second game is Pictionary, which is a whole different type of frustrating. They maintain their teams, and somehow David manages to guess everything Patrick draws almost instantly. Meanwhile, Patrick finds himself totally unable to get even one of David’s drawings, an issue made all the worse by the way David gets more and more annoyed as the game goes on.

After that finishes Patrick heads to the bathroom and on his way back he spots a black and white cat with a squished-looking face. He’s always had a soft spot for cats, despite being mildly allergic, so he bends down and offers his hand for it to sniff. It isn’t long before he finds himself sitting on the stairs with a cat half-lying across his lap. He’s so distracted stroking it he doesn’t even realise how long he’s been gone until he hears the sound of a throat clearing.

David is leaning against the door jamb with a strange look on his face. “I see you’ve met Butterfly. She doesn’t normally emerge when we have people over.”

Patrick looks down at the cat. Between the black and white fur and the… distinctive face, that isn’t the name he would have imagined. David’s probably annoyed enough at him about the mess of their games so far, though, so he simply says, “Nice to meet you, Butterfly, I’m Patrick,” stroking her paw like he’s shaking it.

He looks back at David whose expression is still unreadable, but soft in a way Patrick hasn’t seen before. It’s probably how he always looks at his cat. “Much as I hate to break up this love fest, we were hoping to start the next game?”

Patrick nods, but can’t bring himself to actually move the cat. He looks pleadingly at David, who rolls his eyes and comes over, carefully lifting Butterfly’s front half off Patrick’s leg. It’s the closest they’ve been since they left the kitchen and it’s heady—a tension caught between them for a second before the cat makes a chirping noise and runs up the stairs. 

David laughs and stands up, moving a few steps away. “That’s the last we’ll see of her for the night.” 

Patrick smiles, a soft feeling in his chest he chooses to attribute to the cat. “Aww, well I’m glad I managed to catch one of her rare public appearances, then.”

David just rolls his eyes and gestures for Patrick to follow him through to the living room, where the group is finishing their second bottle of wine and ready to play charades. They decide to change up the teams, so Patrick has ended up with Heather and Stevie and tries very hard to forget that he’s had sex with everyone on the opposing team. His gratitude to finally be on a separate team from David is tempered by the fact that David is a dirty, rotten, sabotaging _cheater_. Well, he’s not cheating in a traditional sense, but he is absolutely doing everything he can to shut down Patrick’s ability to concentrate on the game.

He starts off by standing behind the sofa Patrick’s on and—while Stevie’s trying to mime what turns out to be _Inception_ —lightly scraping his nails through the fuzz of Patrick’s undercut. Patrick looks up only to find David seemingly paying close attention, with only the slightest of smirks. Patrick’s thrown off the whole rest of the round and his team is timed out before getting it, despite Stevie’s impressively clear gestures for ‘dreams’, ‘spinning top’, and what turns out to be the meme of Leonardo DiCaprio holding up a glass in _The Great Gatsby_.

When it’s David’s turn to act out for his team… actually Patrick doesn’t think he’s _trying_ to be distracting at all, he’s clearly far too invested in winning for that. It’s just that Patrick can’t help but be thoroughly charmed by the way David moves, the way he thinks. David’s mime for the second word in “Fast Car” isn’t simply holding up a steering wheel, but involves getting into the car, adjusting the mirrors, and shifting into drive. Whereas the ‘fast’ part is simply done by jerking from side-to-side haphazardly.

When it’s Patrick’s turn, with the relatively simple subject of _The Little Prince_ , he does his best to focus purely on getting it across to his own team, but he can’t help catching glimpses of David out of the corner of his eye. David, who is now on the couch with his legs slightly spread and one hand resting on his thigh while the other is tapping his lips. David, whose eyes say he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing.

Luckily, Patrick pulls it together enough for Heather to figure it out. After that, with the constant seat shifting caused by the game, Patrick ends up sitting next to David and it really shouldn’t be so thrilling. David’s thigh is wedged in against Patrick’s and his arm is casually thrown over the back of the couch, not close enough to actually be over Patrick’s shoulders, but nearly. No one else seems to notice this, which makes sense considering Ken is sitting on Heather’s lap in an armchair, while Stevie and Rachel are noticeably curled up together, enough that Patrick can’t help but raise his eyebrows at Rachel when he catches her eye. She responds with a grin and a raised middle finger.

Rachel knocks it out of the park with her mime for _Les Miserables_ , somehow conveying the concept of ‘France’ such that David guesses it almost instantly. As she’d already indicated it was a book and a play, Ken jumps in with the answer seconds later. The team cheers so enthusiastically that soon they’re all laughing.

“That was amazing, you guys definitely deserve a bonus point,” Heather says, once they catch their breath.

Patrick wants to object, because thanks to the other team dropping a point when Ken failed to get across _Fahrenheit 451_ , they’re neck and neck. Except then Stevie says, “They _so_ do, that was amazing!” and Patrick can’t be the stick in the mud here.

“Guessing in less than thirty seconds should totally mean a bonus point,” he says, because he can’t help but want a codified rule here if they’re going to start changing the scoring system.

David grins at him like he knows _exactly_ what Patrick’s doing and Patrick can’t even be annoyed at him because he hasn’t seen such an open smile on David’s face before and it’s breath-taking. Of course, then he says, “Looks like I’m winning again,” and Patrick remembers that he is, in fact, a deeply frustrating person.

“What do you mean again? You’ve lost all the games so far tonight,” Stevie replies, a wicked grin on her face like she enjoys reminding David of his failure.

David splutters a bit and it’s clear he hadn’t thought about anyone else hearing him. Patrick can’t help a laugh in response to the look on his face, which earns him a truly scathing glare. “Clearly, that’s what happens when you’re on a team with _Patrick_. I was, obviously, referring to the baseball.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot we won that game,” Stevie replies. Patrick’s pretty sure she’s not even saying it to rile him up, she clearly did just forget about their win entirely, which is incredibly annoying. As hot as the result of his bet with David was, he’s still a bit pissed off his team lost.

“Wait, wait, wait! David, are you saying _you_ played a team sport?” Heather asks, sitting up so abruptly she has to wrap an arm around Ken to stop him falling off.

David huffs. “And?”

Heather laughs and shakes her head. “When we were dating it was like pulling teeth to get you to even _attend_ my roller derby games.”

“Until he did attend one and found out it’s a bunch of hot women being violent in short-shorts,” Stevie says in a mutter designed to carry.

Patrick tries not to have any visible reaction to finding out David and Heather dated, which makes a bit more sense of Stevie’s comments about exes.

“Well, I very graciously helped out Stevie by joining her team for a day, because I am such a good friend—”

“He lost a bet,” Stevie drops in.

“Regardless I was the VIP, so now I have retired in glory.” David holds himself haughtily, but he’s pulling his mouth to the side in the way that Patrick’s learning means he’s hiding a smile.

“You play roller derby?” Rachel asks, looking at Heather in a way that would have Patrick telling her to put her tongue away if he could without anyone else hearing it.

“She’s really good, we should go sometime,” Stevie says, a knowing look in her eye.

“Yes! I’ve only been to one bout and I didn’t know anyone there, so I need you guys to come along with me next time.” Ken’s so enthusiastic that Patrick can’t help but grin, especially when he sees the fond look Heather shoots him. He definitely wouldn’t have expected him to start dating a goat farmer, but they’re cute together.

“Um, so sorry but I’ve already filled my annual quota of team sports,” David says, with a very unconvincing apologetic smile.

Stevie rolls her eyes. “What about you, Patrick, can we tempt you?” 

He laughs. “Well, I’m not really one for hot ladies, but I love live sports, so it sounds good to me!”

David gives Patrick a look of betrayal, like he was expecting Patrick to be on his side. Heather smirks and says, “You know, David, Titan Nikki’s back from her sabbatical.”

David’s face goes red in a way that makes an uncomfortable mix of delight and jealousy roil in Patrick’s gut. “Oh, is she?” David’s voice sounds just a tad strangled.

“Ooh, is she the one with the _thighs_?” Stevie asks, clearly taking great joy in David’s embarrassment. She looks Patrick up and down and says, “David’s a _big fan_ of sturdy thighs.”

Now Patrick’s pretty sure _he’s_ bright red, and David’s sputtering and saying, “Why don’t we get back to the game, whose turn was it?”

It turns out that actually Heather and Ken need to head off; apparently goat farming doesn’t leave much space for late nights. Patrick really wants to object that his team is one turn behind and he didn’t even get a chance to _try_ and guess something fast enough for a bonus point. He thinks it’s an impressive sign of his growth that he doesn’t do so, but Rachel’s expression says she knows he’s thinking it.

“Do you guys need to leave right away, or...?” Stevie shrugs like she wants them to think she doesn’t care either way.

“Well, Patrick helped with cooking, so maybe I can help clean up?” Rachel offers.

“That’s perfect!” David says, who apparently never learned that you’re supposed to pretend to say no to that sort of help. “Patrick, why don’t I show you that thing in the backyard I was talking about.” He’s not at all subtle, but Rachel and Stevie seem to be enjoying sharing an eye-roll about him, so it’s probably okay.

“The thing in the backyard?” Patrick asks, eyes wide, just to be a bit of a shit. David huffs and basically pulls Patrick to the back door.

There’s actually a nice deck, with a porch swing and lighting that turns on automatically. The weather’s turning a bit cold, but David opens a lined wooden box to retrieve a blanket before he sits down. It is made of thick yarn, with a pattern of cables around the edge, in stripes of black and various greys.

David tucks one end under his thigh and holds the other up in invitation. Patrick’s not about to turn that down—though maybe he should—so he quickly takes the place and the other side of the blanket. As soon as he does, David looks down at the hand he’d been offering it with as if in surprise. 

“Oh, uh, sorry, this is what me and Stevie do, so I guess I was working on instinct.” The image of David and Stevie cuddled up under a blanket together is impossibly sweet.

“Tough. I’m not giving you back my half of this blanket now,” Patrick says, trying not to let the moment get too serious. “Did you knit it?”

David nods and does that half-smile at him; Patrick wants to learn every line of that dimple, wants to kiss it gently until David’s whole smile opens up. Patrick stopped drinking after one and a half glasses, so he can’t even blame the alcohol for these thoughts surging through him. They sit in silence for a while, David rocking the bench just a bit with his feet. The sky is gorgeously clear and the silence feels almost too comfortable, enough that Patrick feels obliged to break it.

“You know, if the goal is to get them together, maybe we should have offered to do the clean up and sent _them_ out here.”

David looks at Patrick and raises an eyebrow. “Oh?” It shouldn’t be possible for so much suggestion to be held in a single syllable. It bolsters Patrick’s confidence.

“Well, you know, cuddling under a blanket and watching the stars. Seems like an ideal rom-com moment.”

David turns his face to the sky, but even in profile his smirk is gorgeously visible. “Which you would know, of course. As an expert in the genre.”

“Exactly.” Patrick’s actually seen quite a few in his time and knows full well _About a Boy_ doesn’t really count, but it’s much more fun to keep that in his back pocket.

They’re quiet a bit longer and then David asks, “So, you and Ken?”

Patrick was maybe a few seconds from asking about David and Heather, so he almost laughs that David got there first. “Yeah, we were together for a few months? It’s been a couple of years, though, and we work better as friends for sure.”

“He seems… nice,” David says cautiously, like maybe he’s not quite sure what to do with ‘nice’.

“He is. He was the first guy I really dated, after I realised I was gay, actually,” Patrick didn’t really mean to say that—he actually quite liked the idea of David not knowing his messy backstory yet, but David doesn’t seem pitying, or judgemental, he just nods. “Kind of took me a while to figure that one out.”

David’s fingers brush against Patrick’s under the blanket. He doesn’t say anything, none of the trite platitudes that Patrick has absolutely needed before, but is past now. Just that brush of fingers feels like the best response he could have received. 

“You and Heather?”

David smiles. “Yeah, we were together a bit over a year? We realised that we were both way too focused on our businesses to be giving each other what we needed as partners, but it was… a good relationship.” David shakes his head like he can’t believe he’s saying this and adds, “She was kind of my first relationship that was, you know, healthy. And we stayed friends and everything, I wasn’t sure I believed that was a real thing! I mean, me and Stevie stayed friends, but we were barely more than a friends with benefits situation and it didn’t last long and—” David covers his face with the hand on the far side of his body. “I need to stop talking.”

Patrick laughs and bumps their shoulders together. “I guess we’re both over-sharing a bit tonight.”

David ducks his head and looks at Patrick out of the corner of his eye. “I guess so.”

Patrick screws his courage to the sticking place and tangles his fingers with David’s. For a second he thinks David’s rejecting it, but then he realises he’s actually just turning his palm so they can hold hands properly. It feels special, this contact hidden away under the blanket.

A thought occurs to Patrick and he can’t help but laugh. It comes out of nowhere, startling David, so Patrick tightens the hold on his hand to keep them together. “Sorry, sorry, I just…” Patrick shakes his head. “So when we were playing Charades I couldn’t help but notice that, well, I’d, um, _been with_ everyone on your team, and I just realised—”

“That I’ve fucked everyone on your team?” David finishes for him and then they’re both laughing. It’s not even funny enough to deserve this much, but they keep going, hands joined and leaning together. The laughter rolling through David’s body is incredible, like sparks lighting through Patrick everywhere they touch. 

“This games night was not nearly as awkward as it deserved to be,” Patrick says, and it sets them off again, laughing in a way that might be better described as giggling they’re so giddy with it.

There’s a loose energy to them once they stop that would be so easy to turn into a make out session. Patrick can almost feel it, how he’d turn to David and they’d go hot and heavy from the start. He could climb on David’s lap and wrap the blanket around himself like a cape and let the motion of the porch swing bring them together. It would be amazing, except—he likes _this_. He doesn’t want to let go of the fragile wonder of their sides pressed together, their joined hands, and a sky full of stars.

“So, how did you end up in Schitt’s Creek?” It’s something he’s wondered a few times but never quite felt like it was his place to ask.

David blinks in obvious surprise. “Wait, no one’s told you this yet?”

“Should they have?” Patrick frowns. There’s been some references that maybe imply he should know, but he’d never heard of David until they met.

David shakes his head. “You not knowing is actually kind of amazing? Maybe it means I’m not interesting enough to be local gossip anymore!”

Patrick can’t help a little laugh. “I mean, I think you’re _plenty_ interesting, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

David looks away and takes a deep breath before meeting Patrick’s eyes. “Okay, just bear in mind that while it sounds utterly ridiculous, it’s true? But, I do want to tell you.”

And he does. He was right about it sounding ridiculous but Patrick also thinks, with the way David tells it, it couldn’t be anything other than true.


	5. Chapter 5

The morning after the games night David feels unusually light. It had been practically idyllic, sitting on the porch with Patrick until he and Rachel had to leave. David had expected, when he’d pulled Patrick out there, that things might go in a different direction, perhaps collecting on the fact David’s charades team had won. Instead it had felt, well… _romantic._

Ugh, clearly David is being poisoned by Stevie’s sappy feelings, considering she’d been practically _floating_ this morning as she told David about Rachel kissing her before retrieving Patrick to drive her home. Stevie had shown genuine, uncynical human emotion for almost a minute before cracking a self-deprecating joke about it! 

David tries to put that all out of his mind as he works on some paperwork for the store. It’s not his favourite thing, but he’s gotten better at it over time and there’s only so much he can delegate to Neff and his accountant. When he’d opened Rose Apothecary it had been a harsh learning curve, with Alexis turning out to be his unexpected saviour. 

She’d been studying high school business at the time and had helped him figure out the right direction. He’d ended up taking some online courses along with her at Elmdale College. He even willingly attends tax seminars now; he manages some amazing mood-boarding plans while listening to the presentations and takes in just enough to keep him going.

He’s been feeling itchy to do something new with the store for a few months. The contract with the Rosebud Motel Group is great and allows a level of financial stability that is almost overwhelming after the years of stress since everything got taken away from them. David finds, however, that his heart is most with his store in Schitt’s Creek and he doesn’t really _want_ to expand into some sort of empire. 

Well, maybe a bit, but only enough to be able to afford the clothes he wants without dedicating quite so much of his time to bargain hunting, and to be able to do some travel again. But for the most part he likes his life; he just wants to use the base of the store to do something a bit different, to take the chance to try things out.

He’s pondering all of this when a message comes through from Heather. They’re still pretty early in the ‘being friends after a break up’ thing; for some months after it they’d only talked business, but they’ve been working on it. He’s really glad to see her happy with someone else, something he hasn’t been able to genuinely say about a former partner before. Other than Stevie, but she doesn’t really count. That Ken appears to be bright and chipper and basically the opposite of David is somewhat disconcerting, but Ken seems to really like Heather and she deserves that. Plus, it’s not like he hadn’t known that chipper is sometimes her type.

**iMessage:** Heather  
  
**Heather:** Thanks so much for inviting me yesterday and letting me bring Ken, we had a great time!  
  
**David:** I’m so glad you could come and it was nice to meet Ken. He’s adorable!  
  
**Heather:** You think he’s too happy and too nice and you don’t trust it.  
  
**David:** That’s not true! It’s not that I don’t trust it, I just don’t understand it.  
  
**Heather:** Well, I don’t either, but I kind of like that about nice, happy people.  
  
**David:** Sure, but you dated Ted, so you clearly have a much higher tolerance for nice and happy than I do.  
  
**Heather:** It says so much about Ted that he dumped me to date your sister and I still agree that he’s a ridiculously nice person. It’s very annoying.   
  
**Heather:** Luckily, Ken’s form of nice has more snark than Ted ever had, while he’s also not likely to end things with me to try and win Patrick back.   
  
**David:** Mm sorry for springing your boyfriend’s ex on you like that, I had no idea!  
  
**Heather:** What would a games night at your place even be if it weren’t full of the ghosts of relationships past?  
  
**David:** Ouch.  
  
**David:** I mean, it’s true! But ouch.  
  
**Heather:** I call ’em like I see ’em  
  
**David:** Not to segue from the awkwardness of my life or anything, but can I pick your brain about something for Rose Apothecary?   
  
**Heather:** Go for it  
  
**David:** I was wondering why you were so reluctant for us to have exclusivity with the store and what changed your mind.  
  
**David:** Other than Alexis’ excellent sales pitch. If it was just that I’m screwed.  
  
**Heather:** It wasn’t just that.  
  
**Heather:** I care a lot about what I produce, you know that. It feels personal for me, I’m involved in every single aspect I possibly can be. Having someone else take over part of that, handing the power to someone to not only be one of a few people I supply, but be the only way what I make gets out there? It’s a lot.  
  
**Heather:** And god knows you’ve talked enough about your whole branding strategy to me at this point, I could recite your rants about it in my sleep, but that was also daunting. It wouldn’t be Heather Warner’s Cheese any more, it would be Rose Apothecary’s.   
  
**Heather:** So I guess what made the difference is seeing how much you care. About the products, about the people who make them, about things being right. I’d never have gone for exclusivity straight off, but selling a few things through you first, I could really see that. Other people I sold through didn’t make it feel nearly as personal, even if they stuck my labels on everything.  
  
**Heather:** And I could just tell that Alexis was genuine. That you were genuine. Ted obviously trusted you both, and that helped which is... well I can’t say he steered me wrong!   
  
**Heather:** Sorry, I really rambled there.  
  
**David:** No, that’s amazing actually. Thank you. I can’t believe I never asked you about that before.  
  
**Heather:** Part of the success of Rose Apothecary comes from the fact that you have absolute faith in what you are building. You are sure you know the correct way to do things.   
  
**Heather:** It’s admirable. It also gave me the impression you simply considered anything from before I agreed to exclusivity as me being wrong.  
  
**David:** Not pulling any punches today I see  
  
**Heather:** Would you want me to?  
  
**David:** No  
  
**David:** Seriously, though, thank you. Have some things to think about  
  
**Heather:** Any time! Though you don’t actually have to come to my next bout, even if you are a jock now.  
  
**David:** First of all how dare you! But we’ll see, I suspect I’ll get dragged along somehow  
  
**Heather:** Is that code for it depends if Patrick is going or not?  
  
**David:** Nope! Not talking about that. I have to get back to work  
  
**Heather:** 👀👀👀  
  
**David:** No.  
  


***

David’s in the store that afternoon, with Neff having covered opening. It’s quiet, but the store’s doing well enough that he’s not too worried about it. Some customers do come in and he manages to up-sell them pretty well, so he doesn’t feel like it’s been a total waste of an afternoon by the time he’s closing.

When he checks his phone, he’s surprised to see a number of messages from Patrick.

**iMessage:** Patrick  
  
**Patrick:** Did you tell Stevie?  
  
**Patrick:** Not to say you can’t or shouldn’t, that’s up to you, I just want to know because I haven’t said anything to Rachel yet.  
  
**Patrick:** It’s not a shame thing! It just hasn’t come up.  
  
**Patrick:** Reading these back I realise I sound like a total disaster when I promise I’m really only a partial disaster.   
  


If David were a nicer person, he’d probably put Patrick out of his misery but... he’s not.

**David:** Have I told Stevie what?   
  
**Patrick:** Um, about the sex?  
  
**David:** I’m pretty sure she has an excellent handle on the birds and the bees without me explaining it  
  
**Patrick:** You know that’s not what I mean.  
  
**David:** I do?  
  
**Patrick:** Have you mentioned to Stevie that we’ve been hooking up  
  
**David:** Oh, that sex!   
  
**Patrick:** 🤦  
  
**David:** I haven’t, but I’m fairly sure she suspects. She’s just distracted enough by Rachel to not have interrogated me about it yet.  
  
**Patrick:** Honestly I’m kind of shocked Rachel doesn’t seem to have picked up on it yet, but she’ll get there.  
  
**David:** You seem to be implying it will continue, does that mean I get to collect my winnings?  
  
**Patrick:** Well you didn’t beat me at any of the games so that would be a no, but if you want a blowjob all you need to do is ask.  
  
**David:** Um I think you’ll find that my team won charades!  
  
**Patrick:** We left it with an uneven number of turns so the game doesn’t count as finished.  
  
**David:** Your team was two points behind!  
  
**Patrick:** Yes but we established if a team guesses in the first thirty seconds they get a bonus point so we could have tied it.  
  
**David:** As if your team could achieve that level of synchronicity tbh  
  
**Patrick:** Kind of rethinking that blow job offer now, David  
  
**David:** No you’re not  
  
**Patrick:**... No I’m not.   
  
**David:** Good.  
  
**David:** There was actually something else I wanted to discuss with you  
  
**Patrick:** Oh?  
  
**David:** I’ve been trying to rethink some things for my store. I know you’ve been resistant to even talking about it before but I think I could really benefit from your perspective   
  
**Patrick:** Wow, sure. That’s... not what I expected.   
  
**David:** I thought maybe we’d reached the point where you wouldn’t bite my head off if I so much as mentioned it  
  
**Patrick:** That’s fair. But I’d actually love to learn more about it. Are you free any evenings coming up? You could come to mine: I’ll cook us a meal and you can tell me your plans.  
  
**David:** Sounds good. Are you free Sunday? The store’s closed on Mondays so I don’t need to be up early to open.  
  
**Patrick:** Are you implying this is likely to run late?  
  
**David:** Won’t it?  
  
**Patrick:** I hope so. You not having to worry about getting up early the next day sounds perfect.   
  
**Patrick:** In fact, you should stay the night.  
  
**David:** Well okay then  
  


David’s been hunched over his phone in the store room completely engrossed in this conversation when he’s supposed to be doing his closing checklist, but he can’t even mind. This... seems like a date? Patrick is going to cook a meal and they’ll talk and have sex and David will stay the night. That’s a date.

Unless... is it a business meeting and then a hook up and then letting a friend stay in your spare room so he doesn’t need to drive? Patrick’s house from the outside is gorgeous, he definitely has a spare room. God, why is this so fucking complicated and why can’t David stop himself from caring so much. 

He should probably talk to someone about this. Gross.

***

Alexis has her phone in the stand she uses for filming her daily inspirational message Insta stories, with a carefully curated background of books and objet d’art behind her. Her ring light and diffuser combine with her artfully messy hair and no-makeup makeup look to make her look inhumanly polished and put together.

David, on the other hand, is lying in his bed in his under-lit room holding his phone in one hand and his face in the other. He wishes you could make FaceTime hide the little image of your own camera it insists on sticking in the corner, because this conversation is hard enough without having to look at himself while he has it.

“What was so urgent that you _had_ to talk to me about it tonight? You _know_ that Fridays are my technology cleanse, David.”

“Okay, first of all you have posted on _multiple_ social media platforms today, so I don’t know what exactly you think a technology cleanse is other than a day you can avoid talking to your brother! Secondly, I did _not_ tell you that I _had_ to talk to you about anything; you’re the one who called me.”

Alexis’ patronising sympathetic pout is captured crisply by the camera on the phone she somehow got sent for free for review purposes. “Really, David? You texted me ‘Are you available for a chat’. A _chat_ , David. I have literally never heard you use that word before; I thought you’d been kidnapped!”

David groans and scrubs his hand across his face some more. He’d spent a ridiculously long time trying to figure out how to phrase asking Alexis for her help and she’s right that he’d flopped harder than their mother’s jazz album. ‘A chat’? He sounds like a neglected grandma. “Ugh, go suck a gas pipe, Alexis, I’ll talk to someone else.”

“ _David_ , stop!” She looks frustrated now. “I am your _sister_ and I am _here for you_ , so please just tell me what is going on!”

There’s something about how aggressive her demand is that tugs on David’s heart. He really does miss her. “Fine! There’s this guy I’ve been hooking up with.”

“David, ew,” Alexis says, but she looks intrigued, so he tells her the whole story, though without details on the sex, or the hand-holding, or the fluttery feeling he’s started getting. Even without those, she gets that painfully sympathetic look on her face that David hates.

“And so I’m going to his place on Sunday so I can talk to him about like, how I can respect his individuality as an artist or whatever-the-fuck, and he’s cooking and he said I should stay over?” Not being able to gesture with the hand that’s holding his phone is incredibly inconvenient, but Alexis always complains it makes her feel sea-sick when he does and that reminds her of the whole Somali-pirates-Geffen’s-yacht incident, so he does his best to resist.

“That sounds like a date and you know that I question your choices to mix business with pleasure—”

“That was just because you didn’t want me dating your boyfriend’s ex!”

“Ugh, shut up, David! If you let me finish you’d know that I was _going_ to say that I guess it worked out okay with Heather. You’re even, like, still friends with her and everything, which is so cute for you. I guess it sounds like the guy was only being kind of harsh because he’s protective of his friend? But maybe he actually _is_ a giant dick and he’s just being nice because he, like—ugh—thinks you’re hot or something. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen for that.”

David rolls his eyes. “Yes, that is exactly the problem I just explained.” He hears a noise at the door as Butterfly pushes it open, trotting in to jump on the bed and walk over David’s chest, right in front of the camera.

“Oh my god, hi sweet baby, hi beautiful, hi gorgeous!” Alexis is entirely focused on the cat. He moves the phone so she can get a better view, as much as possible when Butterfly had started rubbing her face against the phone as soon as she heard Alexis’ voice. 

When Alexis had first heard that he and Stevie had got a cat, she’d been super against the idea, but from the moment they’d met she’d fallen in love. She was one of the few people Butterfly had instantly taken a liking to, which was incredibly annoying and also reminds David of something he hasn’t mentioned.

“Butterfly liked him!”

“What?” Alexis’ voice has the appropriate amount of shock, which David appreciates.

“He went to the bathroom and, like, disappeared so I went to check he wasn’t snooping around my underwear drawer or something—”

“Ew.”

“—and I found him sitting on the stairs stroking her. She was _half on his lap_ , Alexis!”

Butterfly gives him a look like she’s judging him immensely for his screeching, but she also curls herself into a ball next to his shoulder, one paw resting on the arm holding the phone.

Alexis, on the other hand, is looking at him like he’s one of those adorable makeup samples that comes in a perfect miniature recreation of the full sized packaging. When they were kids, she’d been more into those than dolls. “I think you should go for it with this guy.”

David blinks a few times, trying to process the sudden gear change. “You do?”

Alexis tilts her head like it’s obvious. “David. Butterfly likes him.”

David can’t help but remember the huge feeling that had welled in his chest seeing Patrick sitting there with the cat happily lying on him. Even so—“Alexis, just because my cat likes _you_ doesn’t make her the impeccable judge of character you seem to think it does. She barely even likes _me_.”

“Exactly,” she replies, with a smirk. He absolutely left that one open to her, ugh. “Animals are amazing judges of character. There’s loads of, like, scientific studies about it.”

“Working in a vet office for a few months because you were pining does not make you an animal expert.” David can’t count the number of times he’s said this to her.

“Doesn’t it?” Her eyes sparkle with amusement and she’s so _annoying_ and David really misses her.

“Ugh, okay, let’s be done with this part of the conversation, tell me what’s going on with that film about the possessed hair dryer that you’re working on.”

Alexis rolls her eyes, but launches right into the dramatic story of the director’s latest demands for the promotion. “He wants _each person_ to get a blow out at the premiere, simultaneously, all at once—as if that isn’t going to completely overload the power grid, aside from being _far_ too likely to ruin the hair of people who already had it styled before coming out!”

***

David has his overnight bag packed and set by the door and is trying to figure out what to do about the fact he panicked and for once in his life finished getting ready _too early_ —he definitely can’t leave yet—when suddenly Stevie comes through the front door. David, in the opposite of the sort of move that might succeed in keeping her from asking questions, jumps and shrieks in response.

“Ah, there’s that welcome home I love so much.”

“I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow?” David asks, continuing to display his inability to be chill. He had, in fact, been counting on the fact that Stevie wasn’t due back from her site visit for one of the new motels until tomorrow to avoid having her notice him spending a night away from home. 

Which, now that he thinks about it, makes it sound like she’s his mom, ew. He just doesn’t want to admit how wrong he was about Patrick. Telling Alexis was easier because she’s far away and hasn’t actually met the guy. 

Stevie raises her eyebrows suspiciously. “There wasn’t as much to do, so I thought I’d come home early. Didn’t know I needed permission to come to my own house.”

David winces. “No! I mean, that’s great you’re done early, I just. Didn’t realise.” 

Stevie opens the door to the living room dramatically and looks around. “David, were you planning to _have someone over_ while I was away?” She looks utterly delighted by the prospect. 

“No!” David replies emphatically, but then makes his fatal mistake, as his eyes dart to his overnight bag.

“Holy shit, are you going to have a _sleepover_? Like, an actual planned-in-advance thing?”

David takes a deep breath and can’t decide what exactly he should say, so he takes another one. Still, the best answer he can come up with is: “Yes?”

“Who—wait, is it _Patrick_? Have you been dating him without telling me? What the hell, David!”

David shakes his head violently and waves his finger to emphasise the point. “No, nope—I mean, yes, it’s Patrick, but we haven’t been _dating_ , oh my god! We’ve just hooked up a couple times and—”

“You’ve _hooked up_ with him? When did that happen and why didn’t you tell me? I thought you were still alternating between flirting and bickering like Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks!” Stevie actually looks kind of hurt. “I’ve been actually _talking_ to you about my Rachel stuff and meanwhile you’ve been hooking up with her best friend slash ex-fiancé but didn’t want me to know? I thought we talked about shit now.”

“I was going to! I just wanted to know where it was going first.” He’s not even going to touch on the _ex-fiancé_ part right now. 

“Seriously?”

“Okay, you didn’t tell me you and Jake were still together until he ran into the two on us _on the street_ where every random passer-by could learn that I didn’t know about my best friend’s relationship status!”

Stevie sort of… deflates. “Okay, you have a good point. Sorry I got pissy about it.”

The reveal of the Jake thing seriously had been a mess. It had been _months_ after the three-way break up and he’d been able to tell Stevie was hiding something from him, but it still wasn’t a great way to find out. Jake had run up to the two of them, kissed them both, and then asked Stevie if she was still up for their date that night. 

“Eh, you’re always high-strung when you’re just back from a work trip.”

Stevie blinks. “I am?”

David nods emphatically. “Um, yes? That’s why I always have a bottle of that red you’re obsessed with open. Which I’m pretty sure we’re out of at the moment; I was going to swing past the store and grab one on my way home tomorrow.”

“Oh. How disturbingly considerate of you,” Stevie says. They’re way more able to be open about emotions than they used to be but there’s still definitely an awkwardness in acknowledging something like that.

David rolls his eyes and flaps his hands dismissively. “I only do it so you don’t get pissy at me.”

Stevie laughs. “Okay, sure.” 

David looks at his phone and frowns. He doesn’t want to be early but he really doesn’t want to be late. He still feels the need to prove Patrick’s initial impressions of him wrong. 

“You’re planning on running off before I get more details, aren’t you?” 

David lets a grin cross his face. “Yup!”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Is the sex good, at least?”

His grin gets even bigger. “Fucking incredible.”

***

The garage doors that David knows hide Patrick’s studio are closed when he pulls up to the house. David’s pretty sure he’ll always remember the visceral thrill he’d gotten last time he was here, not expecting to get to witness the graceful physicality of the way Patrick worked at his craft. Especially once Patrick knew he was there, it was like every shift of his body was pure sex. It had been one of the most erotic experiences of David’s life before they even touched.

This time, David walks up to the front door instead and rings the bell. Patrick opens the door quickly with a grin. “David, I’m so glad you made it!” There’s a moment where it feels like Patrick might go in for a kiss, but instead he steps back and gestures for David to come in.

The front door opens into a stunning open-plan living room. It’s beautifully decorated in a mid-century modern style, mostly in browns but with occasional pops of colour and a few interesting twists. There’re floor-to-ceiling wooden bookshelves sitting on a wrought iron framework against one wall, with a mix of items—books, board games, vinyl records, DVDs—none of which look like they’re just there for show. Against the exposed brick wall are floating shelves in solid maple wood with accents of bespoke coloured glass pieces, in a wide variety of styles. There are interesting curios and sculptures in different nooks all around the place —some in glass, but not all—most of them abstract. 

David is struck by the realisation this is probably the nicest house he’s been in since the day the Feds came calling. He loves his little house with Stevie, of course, but it’s much smaller. While David’s proud of what they’ve achieved with it, their decorating budget clearly wasn’t close to Patrick’s.

He’s suddenly reminded of Ted’s strangely soulless apartment, filled with entire discarded showroom sets. It had been unnerving how the sleek lack of personality there had reminded David of so many homes he had visited in his old life. This, despite being polished and well put together, is entirely different. There is a softness to it—aided by the organza day curtains and throw cushions in warm tones—and a lived-in feel that makes it welcoming.

David blinks himself out of his reverie to look back at Patrick, who is still standing by the door and looking almost nervous. “This is gorgeous,” David says, not wanting to play a game of hiding how impressed he is. 

Patrick ducks his head shyly, a hint of an adorable blush rising on his cheeks. David so wishes that they’d kissed at the door because maybe then he could follow his instinct to do it again now. “Thanks. I got a bit obsessed with getting it right when I bought the place; there were a lot of pinterest boards.” Patrick rolls his eyes self-deprecatingly as if he hadn’t just managed to make himself even more impossibly attractive in David’s eyes. “I used to never think about how things looked, you know?”

“I don’t, but continue,” David says, relishing the little laugh that gets out of Patrick.

“I used to want things to be _nice,_ but the only way I knew how to make that happen was to do things in what I thought was the _correct_ way: wear neutral, well-fitting clothes, don’t add too much personality, try to fit in with the whole corporate aesthetic and cookie-cutter homelife I was dedicating all my time to.” Patrick shrugs, mouth twisting like he’d said more than he meant to. “The last few years I’ve been working on figuring out what _I_ actually like.”

David tries to allow his face to convey all the sincerity he feels, which is difficult after a lifetime of trying to hide such things. “Well, I think what you actually like is incredible.”

Their eyes meet with an almost suffocating intensity before Patrick replies, “So do I.”

***

Patrick takes him on a tour of the rest of his—gorgeous—house. When they reach Patrick’s bedroom he says “You can leave your bag here” with a level of heat and confidence that makes David literally weak at the knees. Who knew that was a real thing?

As David places his bag on a stunning antique chest of drawers, he remembers to reach in and pull out a bottle of red wine—he hadn’t _technically_ been lying when he’d told Stevie they were out, he’d just left out the reason why. “Mustn’t forget this.”

The tour ends in the kitchen. It’s stunning, with wooden cabinets, a central island, and an array of cooking equipment that looks like it is regularly used. In a strange way, despite the totally different aesthetics, it reminds him of Jocelyn Schitt’s kitchen. A place where someone actually cooks.

Patrick opens the bottle of wine to let it breathe before clapping his hands together and grinning. “Alright then, let’s make dinner.”

David is aware he looks like a deer caught in headlights at that but—“ _What?_ I am fairly certain you said that _you_ would be cooking _me_ dinner!”

Patrick’s grin gentles, but his eyes still sparkle wickedly. “But you said you’d decided it was time you learned to cook.”

David twists the rings on his right hand. The thing is, he doesn’t feel mocked by Patrick right now. It feels like a joke that he’s part of, something that should be fun. Patrick saw how much of a culinary fuck-up David is and sure, he’ll tease about it, but he also maybe genuinely wants to help. “What are you proposing we make?”

“Cacio e Pepe!” 

David frowns. “Isn’t that just pasta with cheese and black pepper?”

Patrick shakes his head. “You could say that, but you’d be oh-so-wrong. But it _is_ pretty easy, so that frees us up to make a salad and some garlic bread to go with it.”

“What sort of salad?” David despairs of people for whom ‘salad’ refers to nothing other than some sad leaves covered in a creamy dressing. He loves a creamy dressing, but salad can be so much more.

Patrick smiles. “I thought you could help me figure that out. Do you want to look at what I have available?”

David agrees and what Patrick has available appears to be some baskets and a fridge containing an impressive selection of fresh produce and cheeses as well as some jars of different nuts and seeds. There’s even, in a move that makes Patrick seem much more human, a shaker of those delicious crispy onions you get at low-brow salad stations. Basically everything in his fridge is _ingredients_ , whereas David and Stevie’s fridge generally only contains booze and items that are already food. 

They decide on a pear and goat’s cheese salad surprisingly easily. David can admit he hadn’t really been involved in the cooking at the games night once Patrick had taken over to save him, but it’s not hard to listen to him explain what he’s doing and why. David finds himself doing tasks—chopping nuts, grating cheese—without even noticing he’s doing them. The moment between Patrick showing him how and David taking over himself feels so smooth.

David’s hyper-aware of Patrick’s body as they work around each other. The kitchen is far from cramped, but they both find ways to touch; Patrick runs a palm along David’s back as he crosses behind him, David lets their hands brush when Patrick passes him something. It’s a chaste sensuality that makes David shiver. 

They’re wearing ridiculous aprons: Patrick had allowed David the choice of the royal blue ‘Brewers do it best’ or one with a picture of a bowl and whisk and the phrase ‘Whip it good’. He’d gone for the latter. Patrick’s sleeves are rolled up and one of his curls keeps flopping over his forehead. He’s looking at David like he enjoys spending time together like this, but would bend him over the kitchen island in a heartbeat if asked. It's a lot to deal with, but luckily cooking with Patrick is the best sort of distraction. 

Unlike the panic of trying to cook with his mother, or the frantic disaster that had been trying to make dip with Stevie, this is slow-paced and confident. Patrick seems happy to allow David to take as long as he takes slicing the pear; he says that rushing isn’t worth the risk of injury. Patrick lays out the tasks in a straightforward and clear way, with no confusing insistence on _folding in cheese,_ and provides information such as the difference between boiling and simmering like it’s not embarrassing that David doesn’t already know. 

He can sink into learning these little skills and not worry about how it’ll turn out. It’s strange to realise how much faith he has in Patrick at this point, when they’ve known each other for such a short time. Faith in his ability to do this, at least: to cook a simple meal and show David how. 

Patrick apologises that it’s too cold for them to eat outside, as if he’s somehow responsible for the weather. Instead, back in that gorgeous living room there is a dining table made of dark wood. David somehow hadn’t noticed earlier that it’s already set for two. Everything comes together at once and David feels nervous and excited as they carry it all through. 

They’ve each had a glass of wine as they cooked and Patrick refills their glasses once they’ve taken their seats. “Where’s this wine from? It’s amazing and I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

David smiles, feeling the warm bubble of pride that rises in him whenever someone compliments something from his store. “It’s a local Merlot I stock. Peggy, the vintner, is amazing. I had no idea there were such incredible vineyards in Ontario until I found her; I thought it was all Herb Ertlinger’s disgusting fruit wine!”

Patrick smiles, but his eyes study David like a puzzle he’s untangling. “You really care about all your vendors, don’t you?”

It says a lot about the shift in their relationship that David isn’t offended by the implications of that. “Of course. Some of them I get on with better than others, sure, but I wouldn’t have anything without them.”

Patrick’s smile is so painfully fond that David has to distract himself by digging into the food, only to find that it is, in fact, delicious. The pasta has just the right bite, with a sauce that is so smooth and rich it seems ridiculous it’s just cheese and pepper and pasta water. The salad is a great contrast, the balsamic vinegar in the dressing cutting through the pear beautifully. The garlic bread—made from thick, crusty slices of a local bread that David needs to look into, slathered with homemade garlic butter and then broiled—is indulgent perfection. 

David barely even notices the conversation’s stopped until he’s half-finished and Patrick says, “So you like it, then.” It’s got a teasing edge, but not like he’s making a dig at David for how much he appreciates his food. It’s more like he’s amused by how thoroughly they’ve _both_ been enjoying it—Patrick’s eaten just as much of his portion. 

“Did I actually help make this?” David asks, not hiding his grin. “Are you sure you didn’t swap it out with something you’d prepared earlier at some point when I wasn’t looking?”

Patrick reaches out and grips David’s free hand, which had been sitting on the table without him even considering this might happen. “You helped make this.” Patrick ducks his head. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting it to go quite this well. You’re a natural in the kitchen when you aren’t trying to make too many things at once, from scratch, for the first time.”

David laughs. “I guess I’m not very good at starting at the beginning with anything; I want to be an expert immediately.” 

Patrick’s gaze cuts right through him. “I bet you’re good at a lot of things pretty fast, aren’t you?” he asks. David can’t think of any response to that but a shrug, and Patrick’s sharp gaze softens. “Tell me about your store, then.”

So David does. He starts earlier than he means to, talking about his embarrassing stint working at Brebner’s, of all things. He follows up with the story of the Blouse Barn and how that led to him being able to open Rose Apothecary. It takes them through finishing all the food they made, as well as most of the bottle of wine.

David’s never really told this story this way. Usually he’s trying to sell someone on something when it comes up—either on becoming a vendor, or buying their products, or even just thinking that David is an impressive and put-together person—but this feels different. He talks about how hard the learning curve was, and how stretched the finances got before Alexis revealed that she’d asked Ronnie for help and she told them about grants for local businesses.

He talks about the level of relief he’d felt when he could finally hire someone to work with him part-time, how hard it was when his sister decided to move last year while he stayed. He explained how, even though she never officially worked there, Alexis helped him through more melt-downs than he could count over the first two years. He talks about the adjustment of figuring out how to supply the motels, that he gets the product in bulk and has a bottling plant package it up, before he checks it and sends it out. He’d tried to do it by himself at first and Stevie had had to put her foot down.

Patrick, through it all, listens intently. He doesn’t show polite interest, but seems genuinely fascinated, only interrupting to ask for more details, or clarify something. When David feels like he’s got to the now of it all, Patrick looks at him with something like awe. 

“Wow, David. What you’ve done is really impressive. Shall I get dessert and then you can tell me what you’ve been rethinking?”

David blinks, before he remembers that that was how he phrased it in the message that led to the dinner invite. There’s still one area of confusion, though. “I don’t remember us making dessert.”

Patrick grins. “I thought I’d let you off that task as I wanted to do something that needed to be prepped in advance. I’ll be right back.”

While he’s gone, David gets a minute to try and pull himself together. He wasn’t talking about the store like he usually does to a new vendor, but he feels such a pull to Patrick and his work and it seems like maybe he’ll be willing to listen now.

Patrick returns with two stunning dishes of tiramisu.

David can’t help raising an impressed eyebrow at Patrick when he tries his first creamy spoonful. It’s delicious. “Wow.”

Patrick does half a shrug, but his eyes look happy and relieved. “It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“You should tell her it’s really good.”

Patrick laughs. “I’ll be sure to do that. Now I have to know; your store sounds amazing, what are you rethinking?”

David takes another mouthful while he formulates his reply. “So, I feel very confident about my business model. The cohesion provided by pulling everything we sell together under one brand is a huge part of that—”

“I know that, David,” Patrick interrupts. “I mean, I still think the concerns about it I raised at Rachel’s were valid and it was helpful to me to hear your answers to them, but it wasn’t my place to do so. I stuck myself in the middle of your negotiations with her, when I said I would be there just to check over the finance side. I’m sorry.”

That settles something in David that he’d tried to convince himself didn’t need settling. “Thank you. I’m used to getting those questions, honestly, and I understand. I still think I’m doing the right thing but I’ve been thinking… You remember Heather, from the game night? She was actually really resistant to giving us exclusivity, initially.”

“Is this when you were dating?”

David shakes his head. “No, no. At that point she was dating my sister’s ex-boyfriend, actually, which I didn’t realise when I invited Alexis along to a vendor visit because she was so sad from pining over the guy.”

“Ouch, that must have been awkward.”

David waggles his hand as he takes another mouthful. “Not as awkward the first dinners together after that guy dumped Heather to get back together with Alexis and then me and Heather started seeing each other.”

Patrick’s expression of shock is worth sharing how ridiculous his love life has been, even at its healthiest. He’d rather Patrick hear that story now, rather than the next time Stevie gets drunk when they’re all hanging out. Which is the moment David realises that he expects that them all hanging out is going to keep happening. He downs the last of his wine to chase that thought away.

“Okay, you got me, that does sound more awkward. Why didn’t Heather want to give you exclusivity?”

“The sorts of reasons you’d expect. Feeling protective over what she makes, needing to be sure she could trust me with that sort of creative control over something she worked on. I was talking to her about it this week and it made me think.”

“Oh?” Patrick looks so genuinely fascinated, like he could listen to David talk about this for hours and David doesn’t know what to do with that.

“I would love to try and do something with artists whose work is less practical, but the strategy the store has been using just doesn’t work for them. Our vendors make incredible work and they _are_ art, but they’re also commercial products and it’s different. I can’t just stick Rose Apothecary branding on a painting or a sculpture that way, unless I want to be like fucking Ikea with their helpfully generic mass-market art.”

Patrick laughs. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. So what are you thinking?”

David sighs. “I don’t know. It’s not like I have a lot of space, anyway. I need to keep the products on the shelves, so there’s only so much I could do.”

“Have you ever considered expanding?”

“I’ve thought about it. It’s what people expect, because of my dad, and I know that’s like, supposed to be the whole thing, right? Always go bigger and better? But there really isn’t any suitable larger space in Schitt’s Creek, so I’d need to go somewhere else: either move the whole thing, or open a second location. And I guess I don’t know if I actually want to do that.”

Patrick, for the second time this meal, grabs David’s hand. “I know exactly what you mean.”

David blinks in surprise. “You do?”

He nods emphatically. “So, I told you I came into some money a few years ago, right?”

David nods.

“I think I told you before I was in accounting at a tech startup. We got bought out and everyone who was at the company before that got rich, instantly. I had this feeling like, oh, I’ve got money now, so what I have to do now is try and do this again so I get even more money, except… listen, I’m not saying money can’t buy you happiness, but that only works to a certain point. After that point, money for the sake of money, it’s—”

“It’s meaningless,” David finds himself saying. “The constant stress when you don’t have money, if you aren’t able to live somewhere you feel safe and comfortable, or you don’t know if you can help your family if they need you, it fucking sucks. I’d rather have all the money in the world than go back there. But being able to afford all the designer drugs and designer clothes in the world is fucking bullshit if you aren’t actually doing what makes you happy. And I _love_ designer clothes.”

“Wow. I mean, not exactly the life I was living, but exactly the feeling. I bought Rachel a ten thousand dollar engagement ring because I felt so guilty that I didn’t actually want to propose, but it didn’t make me any less gay.” 

David winces. He’d be wondering about their engagement since Stevie dropped the ex-fiancé thing earlier, but it’s different said this way. “So you were engaged?”

Patrick twists his mouth and nods. “For a bit. It’s what led to our final, actual break up when I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Ouch.” He’s seen Alexis break engagements and break people’s hearts, but this feels more real somehow. Even with Ted—before David really knew him—it had felt like just more Alexis drama.

“Yeah…” Patrick smiles wryly. “Anyway, I know I’m beyond privileged to be comfortable and have money to explore my passion and not have to worry, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in pursuit of more of it just because I’m supposed to.”

David has never talked to anyone about this before. He loves his family so much more than he knew he could, but he’s sure his parents wouldn’t get it. Alexis, maybe, but he’s not sure. He doesn’t know that she could have been happy not trying to spread her wings as wide as she could. Stevie, she’s freaked out enough about being financially stable, no way could he start this conversation with her. Even the David of a few years ago wouldn’t have gotten it. But apparently, Patrick does.

“Holy fuck, Patrick. Yes. Exactly.”

Patrick’s still holding his hand and he’s grinning so hard; David thinks he might be grinning right back. Apparently, they’d finished their dessert at some point, which is great because it means there’s nothing to distract David from doing what he’s been resisting since the moment the door opened and kissing Patrick. 

Patrick apparently had the same idea because they both get up from the table and meet in the middle and it’s rough and intense and almost giddy. They break apart just to grin at each other some more, though David can’t help but say, “I bet that ten grand ring was fucking beautiful, though.”

Patrick laughs a full throw-your-head-back belly laugh and David can’t help but join in. They try to go back to kissing, but it’s hard to do with smiles so wide. 

“Do you want to see my studio?” Patrick’s tone is too bright to be seductive, but it sends a jolt through David all the same.

He remembers very well what happened last time he was in that studio. “Is that a euphemism?” 

Patrick chuckles and shakes his head. “I was assuming we’ve consumed far too much carbs and dairy to jump right to the _euphemisms_ , though I could be convinced. I just thought you’d like the proper tour? I didn’t really… show you around last time.”

David can’t resist leaning in for another kiss, this one a bit more heated as they’re no longer laughing, but Patrick is right about needing to let the meal settle. And he really would like to know more about Patrick’s work.

The studio is in a separate stand-alone garage, so they have to walk outside to get there. Patrick explains more about how he bought the house from his glass mentor when she moved on, and while he’s done a lot of redecorating in the house itself, the workshop is largely untouched. It’s a nice space, and now that David’s not busy being slammed in the face by lust, he can take that in.

Patrick talks David through the racks where he keeps his tools, the cabinet of frits sorted by colour and mixed aggregates, the different workbenches, and then they get to the large furnace. 

“So this is the furnace, which has a few different parts... in the middle here is my glory hole,” Patrick says, a far-too-innocent look on his face.

“Um, I saw you using this to heat glass so much it _glowed_ , that does not seem like a good glory hole to me.”

Patrick flutters his eyelashes a little, because he is a _minx_. “What do you mean? That’s what a glory hole is for. It’s where you re-heat the glass so you can keep working with it.”

David shakes his head. “It’s seriously called that?”

Patrick finally breaks and grins. “It seriously is! You get pretty used to the term after years of glasswork, but I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Thought I’d enjoy your glory hole, eh?” David smirks and it must hit the mark because Patrick moves in for a kiss. It’s one that could get heated, but stays at a low burn, their mouths meeting and arms around each other for a few minutes. David wants to learn more, though, so he pulls back. “Come on, finish giving me the tour.”

Patrick nods and drops a last light kiss on David’s mouth before continuing. The equipment is fascinating and complex; he wonders how unusual it is for a glassblower to have a home studio set-up like this. 

After looking at all the equipment, and once Patrick has taken David through the processes involved in glassblowing, they go over to the little nook by the entrance with the couch and shelves displaying finished work. It’s as stunning as David remembers and he takes his time looking over all the pieces. There are a few naturalist sculptures and a couple of vases, but mostly it’s a selection of abstract pieces. They’re gorgeous and evocative and a lot of them are erotic in a way that David can’t actually express but makes him simmer. Patrick seems happy to sit on the sofa while David examines them—he will occasionally say something about a particular one, but mostly he’s quiet. There’s a tension between them that David is enjoying leaning into.

***

Once they head to Patrick’s bedroom it doesn’t take long for them to be naked in his bed. David’s on his back on sheets that might actually rival his own in terms of quality, with Patrick on top of him. David’s cock is pressed up against Patrick’s ass, but he’s not moving his hips so it’s just a maddening tease.

Patrick bites along David’s collarbone and asks, “What do you like?”

David’s been through this many times, is able to lay out his likes and dislikes quickly and confidently and get things moving. And yet, when he opens his mouth to reply what he says is: “How about you tell me and I’ll let you know if you’re right.”

Patrick shifts so they can make eye contact, an interested gleam in his eyes. “You think I know that already?”

David smirks. “Well, I guess we’ll find out.”

Patrick’s smile is dangerous. “You like kissing,” he says, brushing his mouth against David’s so softly it’s like it didn’t happen, “you like it rough—biting and scratching and hair-pulling, doesn’t matter which way around,” he scratches a nail down David’s arm to punctuate that. “You obviously like dirty talk, but I think your favourite subject for that is how fucking thirsty for you I am.” Patrick’s voice is rough at the end of that and David was not prepared for what he unleashed. “You like me on my knees for you and you like man-handling me to where you want me, but I think you’d like me pushing you around a bit, too.”

David can’t help himself from letting out some of the whine trapped in his throat and nodding. “Yes, mmhm, yeah. I like all of that.”

Patrick kisses David fiercely and it’s so good, no caution to it. Patrick has already learned how David likes it and he’s just along for the ride. He doesn’t expect Patrick to break away and keep talking. 

“You like getting your dick sucked, and fucking my face, but from your texts I think you _really_ like sucking cock, too. You also said you’d get me nice and wet and fuck me, so I’m thinking that’s something you’d be into as well.” Patrick drags his ass against David’s cock in a slow, filthy grind.

“Seems like you remember those messages well,” David says when he can trust his voice to mostly hold.

Patrick doesn’t look at all embarrassed to say, “I’ve read those so many times, David. The idea of you getting yourself off while you talk to me is so fucking hot I have to check that it was real.”

David has to get his fingers in Patrick’s curls and pull him back to kiss some more because that’s too much. He can’t deal with what his face might do in response. Patrick’s the one who’s too good to be true, not David. 

“I also like getting fucked, for the record,” David finds himself saying the next time Patrick moves away from his mouth.

Patrick’s answering smile is surprisingly gentle. “I’m excited to still have so many things to learn about what you like. Especially as so far it’s already a list of my favourites. But what do you want tonight?”

David looks at Patrick, propped up over him, and the choice is easy. “I want you to ride me.”

Patrick grins fiercely. “Fuck yes.” He reaches over to get lube and condoms out of the bedside drawer and David takes the chance to look at him for a moment and really feel how intensely he’s into this.

Patrick takes David’s fingers beautifully, his whole body arching into it as David opens him up. David can’t wait to fuck him, but at the same time he feels like he could do this forever, watching the way Patrick throws his head back in bliss as David adds a third finger.

“So good—fuck—your fingers are so _good_ ,” Patrick pants.

David hums thoughtfully. “Maybe I don’t need to bother fucking you then, I can just let you get yourself off on my fingers.”

Patrick growls and tilts his head forward to look at David with fire in his eyes. David’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s not for Patrick’s expression to soften demurely and for him to duck his head like he’s shy, even though he’s still smirking and hasn’t quite stopped riding David’s fingers. “Please, David, let me sit on that big cock; I can’t stop thinking about it in me.”

It’s such a fucking ridiculous porn line and they both know it, but that doesn’t stop David’s hips twitching forward and the hand he has on Patrick’s thigh clenching. “You’re a fucking menace,” David twists his fingers roughly inside Patrick to knock the ridiculous grin off his face. “Get a condom on me.”

Patrick nods and makes quick work of getting the condom into place even as he’s still got three of David’s fingers up his ass. David only removes them at the last moment, when Patrick gets into position. His face is all gorgeous concentration as he slowly slides down onto David’s cock and seeing that is almost as good as feeling how tight and hot he is.

“You look really good doing that,” David says, not able to help himself.

Patrick bites his lip and grinds his hips a little. “You _feel_ really good doing this.” He starts to move properly, lifting a little more each time. “God, it’s been way too long since I got fucked. Your cock is perfect,” he says and then he’s off, riding David so hard and fast, David can barely get his head together to plant his feet more firmly and meet Patrick thrust for thrust.

Patrick’s thighs are fucking incredible—David can see the thick muscle working hard, can feel it with the hands he has gripping them— _Patrick_ is incredible, taking his pleasure so fiercely, like he doesn’t have any time for shame. His gorgeous cock, that David seriously needs to spend more time focusing on soon, is steadily leaking pre-come and so hard it looks almost painful.

Sex with Patrick the previous couple of times has been amazing, but this is something else entirely. David remembers the things that Patrick said before and suddenly finds himself saying, “What about what you like?”

Patrick slows down as he processes the words and then he lights up. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“You like it rough,” David says, increasing the force of his thrusts up. “You like being in control and you like giving it up.” He digs his grip into Patrick’s hips so hard his nails bite into his skin. “You like me pointing how much you like—no, how much you _love_ having a cock in you.”

Patrick makes a wounded noise, planting his hands on David’s chest more firmly so he has more leverage to move faster. “Fuck, yes, David, I love having your cock in me; it’s so good, it’s so _fucking_ good.” He’s been going for so long his thighs must be burning, but he’s showing no signs of slowing down. 

David, however, can only thrust up in this position so long. “Patrick, come here,” he says, pulling Patrick forwards and kissing him intensely. He almost gets distracted from his goal here, except he really wants to get some more leverage. He grips Patrick tight to him and rolls them so Patrick’s on his back with David on top. Luckily it’s a big bed, so they’re in no danger of rolling off with David managing to stay inside Patrick the whole time.

Patrick’s eyes widen and he looks at David like he’s some sort of sex superhero, which—okay, David’s pretty proud of himself for pulling that one off so smoothly. “David,” Patrick gasps, voice strangled. “Fuck me.”

David wastes no time complying, getting one of Patrick’s legs over his shoulder and going for it with hard, steady thrusts that punch a noise out of Patrick that might be David’s new favourite sound. 

It feels so fucking incredible and David is starting to lose control, getting closer to the point where he won’t be able to stop himself from coming. “Touch your cock, I need to feel you come around me.”

Patrick whines and immediately complies. “Yes, yes, gonna come, David, fuck,” he says, before arching his back and moaning. David watches the way Patrick’s fist flies over his cock, doing his best not to slow down his thrusts into Patrick’s ass even though he wants to watch this. Patrick comes so hard it hits his neck and _fuck,_ David wants to gentle him through it but that is _too much_. David loses all control and thrusts hard into Patrick until he’s coming, filling the condom and groaning and not caring at all whatever stupid face he just made because _wow_.

When David comes back to himself, Patrick’s looking at him with a sort of awe that David feels an echo of in himself. “You’re really good at that,” he says and David can’t help but laugh. 

Laughing while his softening cock is still inside Patrick is a disconcerting feeling, even more-so when Patrick laughs as well. David grips the base of the condom and pulls out, before rolling to lie on his back next to Patrick. They’re both still chuckling a bit and it feels so light and fun. He could never have thought that uptight guy he first met could ever be this _fun_.

He throws the condom in a trash can by the bed. They should tidy up more, but Patrick’s hand finds David’s and grabs hold and he thinks maybe they could stay here just a little bit longer.


	6. Chapter 6

Patrick wakes up buzzing. He doesn’t remember _why_ until he hears the soft sound of David’s breathing on the other side of the bed. They aren’t all snuggled up, which makes sense because Patrick loves cuddling but can’t usually sleep while doing it. He can still feel the warmth of David close by, though—can turn around and see him all sleep-soft and feel utterly giddy with it.

He feels strangely energised, despite the well-used ache in his thighs and ass from the sex the night before. There’s something about David that just makes it so _easy_ in a way he’s never experienced before. He’s used to being friends with people he’s dating, but it feels like more than that.

Shit, _are_ they dating? He thinks they’re dating. Patrick had totally panicked after the text conversation where he’d asked David to come for dinner and stay over but it had gone better than he could ever have expected. It was maybe more traditional to go out somewhere for a first date, but he couldn’t shake the idea of helping David learn to cook. And, well, it’s a lot easier to invite someone for a sleepover when the date’s already at your house.

Patrick manages to get out of bed without disturbing David. He feels a little gross; they probably should have actually showered last night instead of their more perfunctory clean up, but ah well. It just makes this morning’s shower feel all the better. David’s still asleep when he comes back in and Patrick takes a moment to just look at him, like a creep. David’s face is relaxed, smashed half into the pillow. It’s stupidly charming. 

Patrick feels like he should leave some sort of cute note saying where he’s going, but he doesn’t get the chance because David stirs just as he’s finished getting dressed. “Alexis, shush.”

Patrick smiles. He knows it’s been a year since David shared a room with his sister, but apparently some habits die hard. “I’m not your sister.”

David blinks himself awake and for the briefest moment when he spots Patrick the most gentle smile appears, but it’s quickly replaced by apprehension. “Oh, god, you’re already dressed, sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry, really. I just _really_ needed a shower and got dressed after. I was thinking of making us some breakfast?”

David’s mouth twists. “What breakfast?”

“I have stuff for, well, most things. What’re you in the mood for?”

“Could you teach me how to make pancakes?” David looks embarrassed and almost surprised to have said that. “Ugh, wow, as if you haven’t done enough, ignore me.”

Patrick gives in to the urge he’s been resisting to get closer to David and press a kiss to his twisted-up mouth. “I’d love to teach you to make pancakes. You want to do your morning routine stuff first, or after breakfast?”

David’s expression isn’t one Patrick knows how to read yet as he wriggles his body consideringly. “Much as I’d rather risk these clothes getting dirty than the other outfit I brought, I think showering needs to happen first.”

Patrick nods and goes in for another gentle closed-mouth kiss— this time David meets him halfway. He gets a couple of towels out and then, on a whim, grabs a worn t-shirt he got for free at an event and drops it all on the bed. “Tea, coffee, or something else?”

David brightens up at that. “Coffee. Definitely coffee.”

Patrick laughs. “Okay, it’ll be waiting when you’re done. How long is the morning routine?” Patrick had half-dozed while David had completed his night-time skin routine yesterday, but he’s pretty sure it took a while.

“When there’s pancakes to make after I can probably cut it to half an hour,” David says, a note of challenge in his voice, like he thinks Patrick’s going to criticise him for it.

“I’ll cut up some fruit for us to snack on while we cook, take whatever time you need,” Patrick replies. He wants David to feel at home here, wants it an alarming amount. Plus, saying that makes that soft smile flash over David’s face again. He’s not sure if there’s anything he _wouldn’t_ do to keep seeing that.

***

When David appears in the kitchen with Patrick’s old, worn-out t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders, Patrick nearly drops the bowl he’s holding. It takes a moment for him to hold back the urge to sweep his carefully presented mise en place off the counter and offer himself to David instead.

“Your coffee’s ready,” he says instead, gesturing to the steaming mug that he poured from his French press just a couple of minutes ago. He’s pretty proud of himself that he timed it so well. “I wasn’t sure how you took it, so there’s milk and sugar next to it—sorry I don’t have any creamer or anything.” He’s been kicking himself for that oversight, but at least he had decent ground coffee beans in the house—he’d only bought them for the tiramisu.

“Thank you.” David quirks that crooked smile before adding an impressive amount of milk and sugar to his drink. “Do you have any cocoa powder?”

Patrick nods and realises he’s been standing there watching still holding the bowl, so he sets it down. The cocoa is still in the shaker he’d used to sprinkle it over the dessert yesterday and he carefully watches as David adds just a shake to the top of his coffee, so he can memorise the right amount.

David takes a slow sip with his eyes closed and Patrick really needs to get himself together. “So, pancakes,” he says inanely.

David raises an eyebrow. “Right. Pancakes.”

It doesn’t go quite as smoothly as dinner the night before—David’s apparently not very experienced cracking eggs, and gets a decent amount of shell in the mixture that they have to fish out—but it’s just as fun. Patrick teases David for the look of horror on his face when the mixer splashes some buttermilk at him and David teases Patrick for the way he winces when he crouches to clean up a spill and his thigh muscles remind him they’re still recovering from last night.

Patrick also introduces David to the wonders of cooking bacon in an oven, so when they sit down they each have a pile of pancakes and some perfectly crisp bacon. With butter and maple syrup, of course. 

Patrick tells David about the time he did a maple syrup farm tour and got to taste all the different grades and now he always buys #2 because that was his favourite. David reacts in horror that he’s never thought to source local maple syrup and immediately makes a note on his phone. Patrick’s charmed by how very dedicated to his store and its brand he is and touched that he felt able to open up to Patrick about it last night.

“So, I’m sure you have things to do today, but I wondered if you might be up for a walk? There’s a gorgeous path not far from here; it’s stunning with the leaves changing.” Patrick tries to sound casual and not like he has been obsessing over this idea of this. Which he hasn’t. Mostly. 

David looks shocked by the idea. “A… walk?”

Patrick tries not to look disappointed. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

David shakes his head. “I didn’t say _no_ , I’m just not sure the last time I went for a walk just for the sake of it… maybe when I was dating this couple in Honolulu and we’d take long walks on the beach, but we always had at _least_ one photographer with us so I’m not sure that counts.”

Patrick’s heard David drop a couple of stories about his past but they’re still a lot to take in. “… Right. Well, I don’t have any paparazzi on my payroll, but my phone has a pretty good camera if you feel any sudden desires to pose?”

“That sounds like an acceptable compromise,” David says, before squinting at Patrick suspiciously. “This isn’t a hike, right? I’m willing to consider recreational walking but no further.”

Patrick laughs, but the look on David’s face is serious enough he does a mental run-through of the route he was thinking. “Definitely not a hike, I promise.”

***

One of the reasons Patrick loves this house—aside from it coming with a ready-made glass workshop—is that it’s just a couple hundred metres from some gorgeous woodland. It’s not too cold today, but it’s definitely one of those days that lets you know Fall is just around the corner. Even so, David puts on a beautiful grey peacoat over the sweater he’d changed into. Patrick doesn’t bother—he’s wearing a sweater Rachel knitted him, pure wool and plenty warm enough for him on a crisp day.

They don’t talk much at first, which is only awkward because of the part of Patrick’s mind wondering if he could take David’s hand; he’s quickly found that to be something he’s very fond of doing. When they reach the tree-lined path, a mix of all sorts of colours as the leaves begin to turn, David gasps. “Wow.”

“I told you so,” Patrick says smugly.

David shoots him a dirty look that Patrick’s far too pleased by and Patrick thinks _fuck it_ and grabs the hand hanging loose at David’s side. 

David shoots a pleased, surprised smile at Patrick and it makes him feel fifty feet tall. He’s so gone on this guy it’s ridiculous. 

“This reminds me of [David Hockney’s work](https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-16536218), are you familiar?” David asks.

Patrick smiles; while he hasn’t actually got amazing knowledge of painters, he knows just the works David means. “Yes, I thought the same thing! All those wooded paths.”

David nods, seeming pleased. “I admit I’m not hugely into nature, even in art form, but I love how he captured that feeling of transitional places.”

The subject, along with Patrick’s desire to keep making David happy, give him the push he needs to bring up something he thought of this morning. “I had an idea for your store, actually. Something you could potentially do in your current space.”

“Oh?” David asks, face furrowed adorably as he walks to avoid a puddle without letting go of Patrick’s hand, even as they have to stretch their arms out around it.

“You could do local Featured Artists. So you wouldn’t need too much space, because it’s just one person’s work at a time—depending on the artist, anyway. There’s a woman over in Elmington who makes these installations out of recycled shopping carts, but those would be hard to fit even into a regular gallery space.”

David’s face lights up at the suggestion. “Why did I never think of that? I could maybe even ask the artists to come in for talks or demonstrations, depending on their work.”

“That’s a great idea! Plus, this way you’re building a base of relationships with local artists who aren’t the sort who make things you’d sell at the store typically, if you did decide to expand.” Patrick can see it now—he’s only been to Rose Apothecary once, but he can still so clearly picture it in his mind. “I mean, obviously I’m happy to introduce you to people I know, but I’ve only been in the area a couple of years and most artists aren’t necessarily great socialisers.”

David laughs. “That was probably my mistake back when I owned a gallery. I met all my artists at parties and that’s no way to find an artist who wasn’t more concerned with image than anything else.”

Patrick blinks in surprise. “You owned a gallery?” The version of David’s story he’d gotten at the games night had been pretty light on the details of his life before his family lost all the money but, considering how much he’s talked about his store now, Patrick’s surprised this hasn’t come up.

David winces a little and wriggles his hand in Patrick’s hold. Patrick’s prepared to let go as soon as David does, but that doesn't happen. “Ah, I didn’t realise I hadn’t mentioned that in my rendition of The David Rose Story the other day.” He does a silly voice for ‘The David Rose Story’, like it was one of those lifetime movies that Rachel had got addicted to the summer she broke her ankle.

Patrick shrugs. “Well, I’m sure there’s plenty of your life you haven’t told me about yet. Where was the gallery?”

David’s gaze goes distant and Patrick’s sure he’s not trying to spot the birds they can hear hidden in the trees around them. “It was in New York—Chelsea, if that means anything to you. I mostly showed a lot of avant garde work, stuff that people want to come and gawk at and write up blog posts decrying the state of the modern world if _this_ is art, you know?”

Patrick’s not sure he does know completely, but he can imagine. “Give me an example.”

“Oh god,” David says with a laugh, covering his face with his free hand. “I should tell you one of the ones even _I_ didn’t like, but I’m going to tell you my favourite instead, so you can’t laugh too hard.”

“I promise.” Patrick spots a bench and pulls David over to it. It’s gorgeous wrought iron, but still a little damp from the rain overnight. Patrick pulls out his handkerchief to dry it off, before sitting; he leaves David the part of the bench he’d got to first, which is distinctly drier. David scrutinises the bench before shrugging and sitting down, both of them tilted so their knees touch. Patrick decides to keep embracing the clichés and reaches out so both their hands are joined. “Tell me about it.”

David nods and takes a deep breath. “So it was this amazing sculptor. She worked with wire mesh a lot of the time, but incorporated all sorts of materials—she hit the heights that mixed media _can_ achieve but so rarely does. It was hard to get her to show with me, but I guess my parents probably bribed her into it.” David’s shoulders curl in a bit, but Patrick holds tight to his hands.

“Tell me about her work.” He wants to know about the history hinted at there, but not if it will hurt David to tell it.

David meets his eyes and nods. “Well, she did this incredible installation. There were these birds hanging everywhere—it was almost hard to walk through them all and she wanted it that way—but in the middle of the room especially. It was like a cyclone of birds and you had to get really close to be able to see that there was something in the middle of them all.

“There was a human figure in the very centre. You could never see much of it at once, only hints from different angles through all of the birds. But they—this genderless, raceless statue—had such a huge feeling of joy. They were smiling and had their hands reaching into the air.”

The way David talks about it is a lot more intense than Patrick was expecting. He doesn’t want to laugh and actually kind of wants to cry, but not necessarily in a bad way. “Wow.”

David ducks his head. “Like I said, it was all kind of ridiculous.”

“No, not ridiculous at all.” Patrick really admires the ability of artists who are so intensely creative and willing to hide some of the work they’ve done. He’s been trying to get there, but it’s difficult to get free of the thought of what people will think of his own work.

David shakes his head, but not like he’s upset; more like he’s happy. When their eyes meet Patrick realises that he really, really wants to kiss David right now. He’s not even totally sure they’re at a ‘kissing each other when it’s not sexually charged’ place yet, but before he can wonder too much if he should, David leans in and kisses him first.

Their hands separate, Patrick moving to hold David’s waist and David with one hand on Patrick’s shoulder and the other on the side of his face and it’s so full of feeling that Patrick’s giddy with it. It’s chaste, mostly, just a meeting of mouths a few times in succession, but it might be his favourite kiss they’ve shared so far. It feels comfortable in a way that warms something deep inside of him.

They eventually get off the bench and decide to make their way back. As their hands slot back together David says, “Oh fuck, I should probably also tell you that Stevie knows I stayed with you last night? She was supposed to be on a work trip, but came back early unexpectedly and I’m no good with lying under pressure.”

Patrick frowns. He had asked that David not tell her, yes, but that was before the games night, which was when he’d felt like things changed for them. “I wouldn’t want you to lie to your best friend, David. It’s fine you told her, just means I need to talk to Rachel soon.”

“Yeah?” David sounds hesitant, like he really expected Patrick to—what, tell him off?

“Of course. Plus, I’m glad she came home early, I wouldn’t have wanted Butterfly to have been stuck home alone all night.” 

David’s eyes do the sparkly thing again and it’s all Patrick can do to resist fist-pumping his own success. “That cat hates people, I’m sure having free reign over the house with food already laid out and no one to bother her is her dream.”

Patrick’s surprised. “She seemed pretty friendly to me.”

David rolls his eyes. “Obviously she has bad taste.”

“Obviously.”

***

**iMessage:** Rachel Atkinson  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** You busy tonight?  
  
**Rachel Atkinson:** Other than freaking out about the date I have with Stevie tomorrow? No   
  
**Rachel Atkinson:** 🤩😬‼️  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** WOAH when did this get arranged?  
  
**Rachel Atkinson:** Yesterday morning? We were texting and I asked and I probably should have waited for the weekend like a person who has any chill, but I am not that person  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Well I’m super happy for you. Shall I pick up some of that shitty craft IPA you like and come over tonight to distract you from the freak-out?  
  
**Rachel Atkinson:** UGH yes  
  
**Rachel Atkinson:** Also that beer is NOT SHITTY it’s amazing but all the more for me  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** You’re welcome to it  
  


***

Rachel makes fun of him for hiding that he and David had been hooking up, but she doesn’t seem hurt by it. “Listen, I’ve fucked plenty of people and not told you about it, although I didn’t then also take you to a _games night_ in their _homes_. I get you not wanting to tell me until it got serious.”

“I don’t know that I’d say we’re _serious_ ,” Patrick says. They haven’t even talked about their relationship.

Rachel shoots him an unimpressed look. “Patrick Brewer. You just waxed fucking poetic about how you went for a _walk in the woods_ while _holding hands_.”

Patrick shrugs. “Yeah, but casually.”

Rachel laughs and he can’t help joining her. His feelings are certainly too big for David being a guy he’s known a bit over a month and actively disliked for half that time, but Patrick tends to put his all into everything, especially relationships. 

“I mean, I thought he was a great guy when you were still writing him bitchy emails. Also, us dating a pair of best friends is honestly kind of adorable? Like, if this was the fifties we’d get married and they’d get married and we’d buy houses next door to each other and swap partners when no one was looking.”

“And that’s supposed to be cute?”

Rachel flips her hand dismissively. “It’s cute that we don’t have to do that.”

Patrick laughs again, because he seriously cannot follow her train of thought sometimes, but he loves her for it. “Whatever you say.”

They chat for a while and then Rachel reminds him that her first yarn release with Rose Apothecary is at their Stitch and Bitch on Thursday. Patrick’s been keeping his conversation with Neff—at the store where they suggested he come along—at the back of his mind, so he finds himself saying, “Do you think you could teach me to knit?”

Rachel grins. “Oh, so you _really, really_ like him, then?”

Patrick can feel his face heat up. “This idea got into my head when I still thought he was a prick, actually.” He doesn’t mention that it was put there when he scoped out David’s store in the hopes of affirming that view.

Rachel looks unconvinced, but shrugs. “And you want to learn knitting, not crochet?”

Patrick frowns, considering what he knows about the two crafts. He’s watched Rachel doing them over the years, but he’s not sure how much attention he paid. “I could probably identify if something was knitting or crochet and I know which tools you use for which, but what’s the actual difference between doing them? Are there certain things you can only make in one or the other?”

Rachel smiles in a way that tells Patrick he’s going to be learning a _lot_ about yarn crafts tonight. At least he brought nice beer for himself to drink while he does.

***

**iMessage:** Patrick  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** IMG_2174.jpg[](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5b5292537d6bb280ada05c494aeecfd6/81ef61360af3cd08-61/s400x600/98f5d66c9988448c5e5f29a2c75948be394b524f.jpg)  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** This sort of view is what makes a hike worth it!  
  
**David Rose:** Mm but I just got to enjoy the view from the comfort of my desk?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** It’s not the same.  
  
**David Rose:** I feel like you don’t understand what a victory for you it was that I agreed to a recreational walk yesterday, you should take the win  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I thought you liked the walk?  
  
**David Rose:** Well yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with hiking  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** A hike is just a walk but a bit extra.  
  
**David Rose:** I’m extra enough by myself, thanks  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** So when you said I should take the win… does that mean I’ll get to collect my winnings?  
  
**David Rose:** Did I say that? I’m not sure that sounds like me  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** screenshot.jpg[](https://64.media.tumblr.com/1deba734cceed772003d10ee62bc186b/81ef61360af3cd08-17/s1280x1920/833284ef7d21b5ee3461e7140146b558ecdaa2f4.jpg)  
  
**David Rose:** Those are easily faked, you know  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Ah, okay. No worries.  
  
**David Rose:** Wait, what just happened?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Um was that not you trying to shut down my flirting?  
  
**David Rose:** I was being coy!  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Oh  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** So that’s a yes on the flirting?  
  
**David Rose:** I mean, I have to get together some tax bullshit to send to my accountant so I probably should get back to that, but yes on the flirting.   
  
**David Rose:** And I maaaaay have remembered something about saying you had a win and would be very open to discussion of you collecting on said win.  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I would be very amenable to such a negotiation.  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Also, I happen to have multiple qualifications in tax bullshit, so if I can help, let me know.  
  
**David Rose:** Ugh no, I’ve done this enough by now I know I just need to barrel through it. Unless you know who came up with Quarterly Sales Tax Remittances so I know where to direct my hearty fuck you?  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** I’ll look into that for you.  
  
**David Rose:** Thanks  
  


***

Patrick has an assistant one day a week. Tina is great—hard-working, determined, and steady—but Patrick still finds it odd to be the artist and her the assistant. Laurel, his mentor as a glass-blower, had talked a lot about glassblowing as an artform and how it had evolved. She’d explained that there used to be a lot more solo artists, but now, for practicality as well as other reasons, it tended to be worked on more communally and people nearly always had assistants.

She hadn’t for most of her career and Patrick had really fallen into an internship with her, after she had an open workshop day and he’d accidentally stayed for hours, talking to her about her approach to the craft. She didn’t usually take apprentices, he’d learned later, but she’d looked at him at the end of that day and insisted he come back the next day. So he did, and the day after that, and the day after that and eventually even she had to admit he was her apprentice.

She’d made sure he knew what he could do alone and there’s something—even for someone as social as Patrick—that is truly special about that. But he likes working with someone else sometimes, and that’s where Tina comes in.

She’s studying glass work at a university not too far away and he appreciates that she has more formal training than he does and can help him approach things differently. Today, he has an urge to try and create something that will be a lot easier with someone else to help, so he’s glad she’s here.

He explains his vision to her and she lights up and then they’re off. There is something so satisfying in working with someone towards something with a clear goal in mind. They don’t talk a lot as they work and it’s good, the meditative quiet of complex physical work pushing everything else out of his head.

Once they’re done he and Tina chat about their lives and it’s nice; she’s not a close friend but there is something about the work they do that creates a strong bond. She talks about how her partner really wants a kitten and Patrick can’t help but tell her about Butterfly, which of course leads to David. 

It turns out she goes to his store regularly; she says it’s the only place she’s willing to buy her haircare products now. It warms something in Patrick to see how deeply David is embedded into the wider community. Patrick can’t stop himself from gushing about him a bit, but unlike his other friends Tina doesn’t give him shit for it. There’s a definite knowing look, but Patrick can take that. He knows he’s pretty far gone at this point.

***

Patrick had expected to drive to Schitt’s Creek with Rachel the day of the Stitch and Bitch/yarn launch, but her date with Stevie two days ago apparently went well enough that she’s planning on having dinner with her after. Which is fine, obviously, it just means that he can’t use distracting her from being nervous about the launch to distract _himself_ from being nervous about it.

He hasn’t told David he’s coming. He’d thought it would be a fun surprise: he’ll turn up and David will be so excited and impressed. Now he’s wondering if actually he’s being kind of weird and not giving David his space. They’ve texted a few times since Patrick put his foot in his mouth with his sudden fear that he’d been totally misreading David’s signals but he’s still been second-guessing himself since.

Rachel had seemed happy to hear he was coming, though, so if David seems like he doesn’t actually want Patrick around he can at least say he’s there for her. Which he will be; he’s so proud of her work! But he probably would have gone to see it in store another day if not for how he’s kind of desperate to see the version of David that taught his shop assistant how to knit.

He allows himself the vanity of checking his hair in the mirror before leaving his car. He’d freshened up his undercut before the date on Sunday, so he’s still feeling pretty good about how it looks. Finding a hairstyle that allowed him to embrace his curls without them being quite so intense as they are when left alone had initially been a strange adjustment, but now he loves it. Especially because it means he gets read as queer a lot more often.

Walking up to the building, Patrick can’t help but think of what he’d talked about with David. This really is such a great spot for a store, right in the heart of his local community, and he understands why David is so wary of giving it up. He wouldn’t want to if it were his.

Looking through the window as he approaches, it seems like only David, Neff, and Rachel are there so far, but that’s not surprising as he’s rarely able to resist being early. They all turn to the door as he walks in. Rachel smiles, David seems surprised—maybe pleasantly?—but it’s Neff who speaks first. “Oh hey, you came!”

Rachel and David both turn confused looks on Patrick and he shrugs and smiles at Neff. “Yeah, you made me wonder why I’d never bothered trying to learn before.”

David squints his eyes as Patrick approaches and points at the he/him pronoun badge he’d carefully clipped on before he got in the car. “You’ve been to my store before. When did you come to my store?”

“I wanted to see what it was like!” Patrick says, trying not to sound defensive or amused, though he’s feeling both.

“Well, what _is_ it like?” It’s clear from David’s tone that the answer to this question is very important to him.

“It’s a beautiful store, with high quality products. And I’d say really impressive and welcoming staff, but I’m not sure I feel that this time.”

David rolls his eyes at Patrick, but Neff looks pretty pleased, if still not quite sure what’s going on.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’d scoped out the place, Patrick!” Rachel says.

“Oh, you’re _Patrick.”_ Far from looking confused, Neff’s smirk now says they know far too much.

Before anything can go any further the door opens and admits a group of people, all seemingly in the middle of a conversation, though they pause it to greet David and Neff. Patrick takes the chance to go stand by Rachel, who pokes him in the side. “So sneaky, lately.”

He laughs. “Really not trying to be, just seemed weird to say I’d gone to have a look at the place. Neff’s actually the one who put the idea of learning how to knit in my head.”

“Oh, so it was early then. I _knew_ you liked David!”

Patrick glances around to see if anyone heard her, but he’s pretty sure Neff’s the only one who heard, as David is caught up with the other attendees who have started pouring in. Neff dramatically mimes zipping their lips and both Patrick and Rachel laugh. It’s not like he minds people knowing he likes David, but he’s not even really said it to the man himself yet. 

They talk for a bit and a few more people arrive before David claps his hands and insists that they should take their seats, which are set up around a central pair of tables. “Obviously, usually these are pretty relaxed, but today is special as we have a new vendor joining the Rose Apothecary family.” He gestures dramatically at Rachel, who blushes and waves as people ‘oooh’. She’s never been a huge fan of being the centre of attention. “Every month Rachel will produce a limited-edition yarn for us, purchase of which will come with a free pattern.” He holds up a gorgeous scarf.

Patrick has seen the yarn, of course, but he hadn’t seen the pattern David had come up with. It’s gorgeous and simple, while not being plain—the design is just enough to highlight the variation in the yarn and vice versa. 

A middle-aged blonde woman reaches forward to touch the scarf and hums approvingly. “That’s lovely yarn,” she says, directing it at Rachel.

“Great colours,” says a brunette with a bright smile. “And I love what you did with the pattern!”

Rachel shakes her head. “Oh, no, David designed the pattern. I just gave him the yarn to work with.”

Everyone turns to David, who looks both embarrassed and pleased when they all comment on how impressed they are. “Okay, okay, that’s enough. If you want to buy the yarn, I’ll be behind the counter for ten minutes for purchases, you know the drill.”

He shifts to the till and nearly all the people in the store pick up a skein of Rachel’s yarn and line up to buy them. Patrick spots a couple of people adding some other purchases alongside and he can see how this is a great idea for the business. 

“I’m surprised he’s not making you work the till,” he comments to Neff, who has held back with him while people pay for their purchases.

They shake their head. “I’m not actually on the clock right now, I just like to come to these.”

Patrick’s surprised, but it’s nice that they like this space so much they’ll come in their time off. “That’s cool.”

“So, you didn’t happen to mention your ‘friend who knits’ was actually in the process of becoming a vendor here.”

Patrick ducks his head, caught out. “Well, they hadn’t finalised the contract, so I wasn’t sure.”

Neff pins him with a look. “Yeah, I heard about how ‘not sure’ about that contract you were.”

Patrick winces and looks over to see the line is down to a couple of people. “Look at that, I’m nearly out of time to buy my yarn,” he says, grabbing a skein as he gets up. Neff laughs at the half-joke, so he’ll take that as a win.

He really did plan to buy Rachel’s yarn, though, and he feels a rush of excitement as he gets to the till and hands it to David. 

“I’d have thought you could get this from the source,” David says with a quirk of his lips.

Patrick really wants to kiss him, but there’s a counter in the way and he’s not sure that’s something David would want at his place of work. He’s annoyed with himself that all the confusion when he arrived had meant he hadn’t even managed to get a cheek kiss, or maybe a hug. “It’s different. I’m proud of her and want to support her. And you.”

“Can you even make something with this?”

There isn’t anyone behind Patrick and everyone else seems to be settling in and getting out their projects. Patrick leans forward on his elbows, just to get a bit closer to David. Close enough that David could lean in and kiss him, if he wanted. “Not yet, but Rachel started teaching me when I saw her this week. I didn’t come here _just_ to bitch today.”

David laughs and finishes ringing up Patrick’s purchase. “I can’t believe you came here before and I didn’t know about it.”

“Oh, was I supposed to get written permission?”

David’s eyes glint with amusement. “Mm, I wouldn’t be against implementing such a system. When was it, or do I need to go back over the security footage to find out?”

Patrick looks away for a second, but can’t help the pull of his gaze to David. “It was actually the morning of the day that you came to my workshop.”

David’s close enough that Patrick can see his eyes widen as he realises what day it was. The day when Patrick was working on glass and looked up to find David watching him—the day they first hooked up. “Well then, I guess we’re equal on turning up at each other’s place of work that day, but why didn’t I know I’d see you _today?_ ”

The energy between them is intense enough that Patrick doesn’t even think to use his excuse. “I thought you might enjoy the surprise.”

David looks down, which means Patrick notices how beautiful his eyelashes are for the first time. Patrick’s not sure that’s something he’s really thought about someone before, but somehow with David he notices it all. 

“I’m not generally a fan of surprises, but in this case I can see the appeal.” David’s looking at Patrick through those long lashes, an almost cautious set to his expression and Patrick’s about to give in and lean his whole body forward for a kiss, but then—

“David, you know brioche, don’t you?” someone calls and the moment’s broken. 

David tilts his shoulder apologetically and replies, “Yes, yeah, I can show you how it works, give me a minute.”

“I thought you didn’t cook?” Patrick asks. He’s not too disappointed; probably it’s for the best he _doesn’t_ just launch himself at David’s face at his place of work. 

David huffs in annoyance, but Patrick knows he’s amused. “It’s a type of knitting. It makes a two colour reversible fabric.”

Patrick had guessed some of that, but he makes a big show of sudden understanding. “I guess I’d better practice my knitting and purling while you help.”

David smirks. “You do that. I’ll come and see how you’re doing, though, so make sure you keep an eye on your _tension._ ”

When Rachel had explained the importance of tension for novice knitters it hadn’t sounded nearly so exciting. Which is one of many reasons why it’s good news he didn’t go through with marrying her. “I’ll do that.”

***

It’s fun, getting to know the other people around the table and seeing how David interacts with them. He’s obviously deeply embedded in this community, even if he spends as much time trying to convince a guy called Ray his choice of colours to combine is terrible as he does praising the brunette who complimented his design—Twyla—for finally getting the hang of a complex-looking technique called a Kitchener stitch.

Rachel seems comfortable, too. They’re not sitting all that close, but she’s chatting happily with the people she’s near. Patrick’s ended up in a conversation with Neff and the blonde woman—Jocelyn—who apparently actually taught Neff in high school a half-dozen years ago.

“I’m not surprised Neff’s so good at all this stuff,” Jocelyn says to Patrick in a stage whisper, after he’s expressed amazement at the complex lace pattern Neff is working on. “They were always trying to get me to let them make dioramas instead of writing essays.”

“That was _one time_ , Mrs Schitt,” Neff says. “And I maintain that the Sack of Troy is best expressed through papier mache.”

“I’ve told you to call me Jocelyn! And I let you make a Trojan Horse as extra credit.”

They all laugh and Patrick’s distracted enough he doesn’t realise that David has come over until he’s leaned over Patrick’s shoulder. 

“So, what have you learned so far?” David asks, voice casual like he’s not _right_ in Patrick’s space in a way everyone can see. Jocelyn gives Patrick a significant look before turning away.

“A basic cast on, a knit stitch and a purl stitch.” Patrick holds up his piece. He ended up working on it last night so it’s about a foot long, just a flat piece of white knit fabric on knitting needles.

David hums and makes a gesture that clearly means _hand it over_ , so Patrick does. “You have some inconsistency in tension, but it doesn’t look like you’ve managed to drop or gain any stitches.” That is probably because Patrick hasn’t been able to resist obsessively counting and recounting to be sure his number is right. “This yarn was a good choice for a beginner, shows stitches clearly. Are you actually planning on making this into something, or is it just practice?”

“Just practice.” Years of having a knitter as his best friend mean Patrick is highly unlikely to wear a completely plain white scarf when he has much nicer ones. 

David nods and his head is close enough to almost brush Patrick’s cheek. “In that case, do you want to learn increasing and decreasing? Then you’ll have all the skills you need to make a toque, which is my preferred project for beginners.”

“That sounds perfect.”

David moves away, which is disappointing, but only enough to grab a stool to set down next to Patrick. They’re close enough their thighs are brushing and such a simple touch shouldn’t send such a thrill through Patrick considering this man was _inside him_ just a few days ago. Although, maybe that’s the reason it does.

David’s an attentive teacher. Patrick has noticed his attention to detail in many ways by now, but it clearly applies here, as he carefully shows Patrick how to adjust the way he’s holding the yarn to make it easier. People shift around and Rachel comes over to chat with them. Patrick manages to get some information out of her about how her date with Stevie went, which David’s clearly listening to attentively, even as he’s looking at his needles.

They teach Patrick the new techniques, and it’s nice to have the two of them talking to each other. His practice knitting is looking pretty silly, with random increases and decreases, and some eyelets from when Neff decided he should also learn about yarnovers to make lace, but he feels pleased with what he’s done.

The end of the two hour session comes too quickly. Patrick wants to hang out longer, but it’s been a long work day for David so he doesn’t want to pressure him. Before he can decide how to ask, David ducks in close and says, “You could stick around and I could help you pick out some yarn for your toque, if you want?”

Patrick grins. “That sounds great.”

David nods and gets up to go and do another ten minutes on the till for anything else people want to buy. People say bye as they head out and there’s a few winks and knowing looks at them that make David scowl, but it’s sweet how much they obviously care. When Neff leaves they make Patrick promise to have finished a small project by the next one and Patrick really likes that it’s assumed he’ll come back.

As the last person other than David, Rachel, and Patrick leaves, Stevie comes through the door. She looks surprised—possibly impressed?—to see Patrick there, but before she can say anything Rachel walks right up and kisses her hello.

“So things are going well, then?” Patrick teases, even though he’s heard from Rachel that they are.

Stevie blushes and scowls, but she also slides an arm around Rachel’s waist. “It would seem so. You know how to knit?”

Patrick ducks his head. “I just started learning, actually.”

“I’m sure David would be happy to _teach_ you,” Stevie says with a leer and Rachel laughs.

“Don’t you two have a date to get to?” David says pointedly.

They do goodbyes, including David and Stevie exchanging a “Best wishes” from him and a “Kindest regards” from her that’s clearly a well-worn old joke. He and Rachel exchange a _Wow, they’re so cute_ look and then Patrick is alone with David in the store. David locks the door and turns the sign behind them.

“So what colour do you think this hat should be?” Patrick asks. 

David looks him up and down with a thoughtful tilt to his mouth. “Well, you seem to favour blue and I respect a signature colour, so something in that palette. Do you have any wool allergy or sensitivity?”

Patrick confirms he doesn’t and they head over to the yarn section. David looks thoughtful as he passes his gaze over the selection. Patrick’s happy to defer to him on this one, so he just watches David. He can see the exact moment David makes a decision in the quirk of his mouth. He reaches for a skein of yarn in the middle and holds it up to Patrick. “This.”

Patrick can’t help but slide his hand over David’s as he takes it. The incredibly soft yarn is a deep blue—not quite a navy—with just a few lighter flecks. “Perfect.”

David smiles. “Of course it is.” 

David also picks out some needles for him and Patrick checks out at the till. “Can I help you with closing?” The chairs from the Stitch and Bitch are still out and there are probably other things to be done, too.

“I should make a show of not wanting to accept your help, but honestly I normally make Stevie clear up after these with me and she’s on a date, so yes, absolutely.” 

Patrick follows David’s instructions on how and where to pack away the chairs, what to bring out for them to set up on the tables they were using to knit on, exactly how to arrange items. David does come over and tweak the presentation a bit, but less than Patrick expected.

“I’ve been thinking about the featured artist idea, by the way,” David says once everything is back to the crisp perfection Patrick saw last time he visited the store.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm, yes. I was thinking we could cut back on floor stock and put a display case here?” He gestures to one of the walls, sketching out his vision in the air with his hands.

“That sounds perfect. You’re thinking sculptural pieces, then?”

David looks at him strangely, but nods. “Of course. I mean, maybe eventually I’ll need to figure out wall space, but it depends who I find as it goes on.” He meets Patrick’s eyes. “It’s a really great idea, Patrick.”

That makes Patrick feel brave enough to go over to his bag. “I actually have a gift for you? It’s just a concept I had, thinking about all this and I realised I hadn’t given you anything yet.”

“Why would you have given me anything?”

Patrick shrugs. “It’s what I do with my work. I tried making more practical things to sell at that craft fair and it just… wasn’t for me. So I make things to give to people I like.”

David’s obviously trying to hold back a shy smile, but Patrick knows how to read him too well for that now. “Well, okay then.”

Patrick pulls out the item, wrapped in tissue paper, and hands it over. “It’s not anything special, just something I pulled together with my assistant, Tina. It’s supposed to look like—”

“A ball of yarn!” David looks at the stylised ropes of black and white glass twisted into a ball. “This is _so_ special, Patrick. Thank you.”

He looks so delighted by the little piece that Patrick can’t help but step closer to him. “Can I kiss you?”

David answers by leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Patrick’s lips. “If you must,” he says once they part, his mouth quirking to the side.

Patrick gets a hand on David’s shoulder and leans in for another soft kiss. “Very generous of you,” he replies.

Their mouths meet again and Patrick really does mean to keep it chaste, but David scrapes his teeth across Patrick’s lip as they part and he can’t resist sliding his hand up to David’s hair and tugging lightly as he follows up with a deeper kiss.

David breaks it after a few seconds and Patrick only has a moment to worry that he’s stepping away before David grabs his hand and drags him through the door at the back of the store. Once they’re in the back room David carefully places the gift he was still holding on the desk and closes the door.

“I thought we could do with a bit more privacy,” David says with a little shimmy and Patrick can’t kiss him fast enough. He wants to fucking _devour_ this man, it’s ridiculous.

David pushes Patrick back against the door; he spreads his legs so David is almost looming over him as he steps between them. It’s still so unexpectedly sexy every time he’s reminded of David being just that bit taller and broader than him and he moans into David’s mouth as he gets his hands under his sweater.

It doesn’t take long for them to be shirtless, with Patrick scratching his nails down David’s back and David leaving a biting mark on Patrick’s collarbone. Once he’s done he meets Patrick’s gaze and _winks_ before dropping to his knees and working open Patrick’s pants. He barely even pulls them down; just gets Patrick’s cock out and goes to work with his mouth.

It’s so hot that Patrick can hardly stand to watch, but he can’t bring himself to look away. “You look so fucking good like that, David,” he can’t help but say. David seems to appreciate it, judging by the hum of pleasure he makes around Patrick’s cock. It feels so fucking good that Patrick just has to hang on for the ride. He has no idea how much time has passed before he has to warn David he’s on the verge of coming—David just stays put and swallows every drop.

As soon as Patrick’s done coming, he drops to the floor to pull David into a kiss. His post-orgasm lassitude is tempered by his desire to get David off _now_. It doesn’t take long to get what he wants, getting David’s dick out of his pants and stroking him until he comes, panting into Patrick’s mouth.

When the kiss breaks, Patrick can’t help himself and licks his hand clean, maintaining eye-contact the whole time.

“ _Fuck_ ,” David says, flopping back and tucking himself back in. 

“Yeah,” Patrick agrees, realising his dick is still out and rectifying that situation.

“So…” David starts, a cautious look in his eyes. “Want to come back to my place? We can order pizza and I’ll show you how to knit in the round.”

Patrick’s grin is so wide it’s almost painful. “That sounds perfect.”


	7. Chapter 7

**iMessage:** Patrick  
  
**Patrick:** I know it’s only a week away, but do you have any plans for Thanksgiving? I’m hosting at my house and it would be amazing if you (and Stevie?) could join us for lunch.  
  
**David:** I’m sure whatever you cook will be worlds better than Twyla’s Cafe Tropical’s turkey surprise, but my sister’s coming for the weekend so I can’t abandon her. Much as I’d like to.  
  
**Patrick:** Your sister’s welcome to come, too! I always make way too much food as it is.  
  
**David:** Seriously?  
  
**Patrick:** Of course! The more the merrier.  
  
**David:** I’ll get back to you  
  
**Patrick:** Sure, no rush. As long as I have a couple days’ warning to make sure there’s enough pie.  
  
**David:** There’s going to be pie?  
  
**Patrick:** What do you take me for!? Of course there’s going to be pie.  
  


***

“It’s so fucking weird to be so happy,” Stevie says as she takes the joint they’re sharing out of David’s hand. “Like, both of us? Successful careers and dating a pair of total hotties. At the same time? Sounds fake.”

David considers kicking her to get her to shut up, but resists. “Okay, first of all Patrick and I aren’t _dating_ and second of all you’ll jinx it.”

Stevie rolls her eyes. “How can I jinx it if nothing’s happening?”

“I didn’t say nothing’s happening, but it’s not—we aren’t _dating._ I would know if we were dating.”

Stevie takes a long pull, the way she does when he’s annoying her and she’s decided she deserves extra. “I got home after that Stitch and Bitch to find you making out on the couch with the TV on and pizza boxes and knitting that he’s learning for _you_ on the table.”

David huffs and reaches forward to snatch the joint back. “He’s not learning for _me,_ he’s learning because he’s a creative person! And why wouldn’t he be learning for _Rachel?_ She’s his best friend and she even makes yarn.”

“Yeah and she’s been knitting _forever_ basically and he never bothered to learn before, but now he is?”

This all makes far too much sense, which is a clear sign that David’s high. He finishes the joint anyway. “Ugh, just tell me about the date! I didn’t expect you back so early.”

Stevie grins and throws her head back against the couch. “It was amazing, but she had work early the next day so she couldn’t come over. We did have an excellent car make-out session, though.”

David hums. “Mm, a classic. So you’re feeling good about trying white wine?”

Stevie smiles softly. “I really am.”

David shimmies a little. “I can’t believe my little Stevie has found herself a nice young lady.”

She raises a middle finger at him, but she’s still smiling. “Yeah, yeah.”

A while later, after they’ve aired out the room and let Butterfly in to lie across the back of the couch, David remembers what he’s been meaning to ask her. “So Patrick invited us to Thanksgiving, do you want to do that? He said Alexis can come too and there’ll be _pie._ ”

“What kind of pie?”

“I didn’t check.” David frowns, suddenly concerned. Most forms of pie are good but not _all_ of them. “I’m going to check.”

“Patrick should bring us pie now, so we can judge if it’s worthy of our attendance.”

“I’m not going to make Patrick bring us pie!” Though, that does sound good. All they have in the kitchen right now is Takis and a bag of wilted spinach.

**iMessage:** Patrick  
  
**David:** What type of pie  
  
**Patrick:** Pumpkin of course, as well as a date and custard pie I’m trying out.  
  


David relays this to Stevie and she hums. “Yes, that is good pie.” Her eyes grow wide and she pokes David’s feet. “Wait, will Rachel be there?”

“You’re so cute like this! I’ll check.” He’s been assuming it would be Patrick and Rachel, but it hadn’t occurred to him to confirm that.

“Don’t say I told you to check. Be casual.”

**David:** Will Rachel be there?   
  
**Patrick:** Oh yeah, didn’t I say? It’ll be me, her, and my parents.  
  


“We can’t go to Thanksgiving,” David says, staring at his phone. How could Patrick have casually invited him to _Thanksgiving_ with his _parents_ and not mentioned that’s what it was?

“What just happened? Is Rachel not coming?”

“She is and so are Patrick’s _parents!_ ” 

Stevie cackles. “Holy shit, we’re _definitely_ going.”

David shakes his head a bit too fast, which gives Stevie a chance to snatch the phone out of his hands. “I can’t meet his parents, I bet they’re like, incredibly nice, wholesome people like Patrick and Rachel!” He tries to grab back his phone but Stevie has fast fingers and she’s already sent the message by the time he manages it. Butterfly chirps in annoyance at their antics and he strokes her apologetically.

“Need I remind you that you didn’t think he was nice _or_ wholesome at all at first? They’re both sarcastic dicks a lot of the time, that’s why we like them.”

David flaps his phone at her reasonableness and looks at what she wrote. It’s surprisingly restrained and Patrick’s already replied in a way that means David can’t bring himself to take it back. Ugh.

**David:** We’ll be there!  
  
**Patrick:** I’m looking forward to it   
  


***

“Hey David,” Patrick says over the phone a few days later, his voice already sultry.

David squirms a little in his bed. He’s lying on top of the covers with headphones in—they’d been texting and it turned flirty and then suddenly Patrick was calling him. “Hello Patrick.”

“Mm, thank you for answering. I like hearing your voice,” Patrick says, like it’s obvious and not something no one’s ever said to David before.

“Are you sure you aren’t just looking forward to what you think my voice might say?” Hopefully that’s flirty enough it doesn’t sound too much like a plea for Patrick to say it again.

“Of course not. Anything your voice might say is a bonus to just getting to hear it.”

David rolls his eyes even though Patrick can’t see. “What if I told you about how my store is a branded immersive experience.”

Patrick groans like he’s in pain. “Okay, not _anything._ You know buzzwords give me corporate flashbacks.”

David laughs. “You could try and inspire me.”

Patrick hums. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, almost too earnest for phone sex.

“What sort of things do you think about?” David asks. He’s not even sure what sort of answer he’s looking for.

“I think about everything, David.” Patrick’s voice still has that gutting note of sincerity, before he continues in a lower tone, “But today I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?” Patrick sounds concerned, like he said something totally outlandish.

“It’s _so_ okay,” David says, trying to pull himself together before his heart runs away from him completely. “You’re an excellent kisser.”

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Wow, such high praise.”

Patrick’s laugh is like whiskey, smokey and warm. “David, you’re spectacular. I could kiss you for hours and not get tired of it.”

It’s all a bit much for David to hear, so he tries to guide them in a sexier direction. “Mmm, but what _else_ would you like to do?”

“I _do_ also like… holding your hand.” Patrick definitely knows what he’s doing, considering he says it like some absolutely filthy confession. 

“Patrick.”

“Yes, David?”

“I really liked sucking your cock.” The coy approach clearly wasn’t working. “It was so hot to finally get to taste you.”

Patrick makes a mildly strangled noise that is extremely gratifying. “Yeah? Your mouth is so fucking good, David.”

“I want to use my mouth all over you.”

“Fuck, you should leave more marks on me. I keep pressing the one you left on my collarbone, remembering how fucking hot you were pushing me against the door and taking what you wanted.” Patrick’s voice is intense, the way he always gets during sex. David loves knowing that.

“You like that, don’t you? Me pushing you around a bit.”

“Fuck yes, I love feeling you surrounding me.”

David makes a pleased hum and slides a hand down to stroke his cock over his pyjama pants. “You should tell me more about that.”

Patrick moans. “I loved when you lifted me up against the door, that first time we hooked up. You’re so fucking strong and sexy.”

“Yeah, I could tell. You didn’t even like me but you were gagging for it.” David doesn’t usually make it a habit of lifting people up against doors and walls—it’s hot, but his muscles complain for two days after. He was absolutely showing off when he did it before. If Patrick likes it so much he might be willing to work on being able to do it a bit more often. “You want me to do that again?”

“Yeah, whatever you want to do to me, David.”

“Mm, but what do _you_ most want?”

Patrick whines and David thinks he can hear the sound of lube being opened. “Want you to bend me over and fuck me. Want you to hold me in place and make me take it.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot, Patrick, you take my cock so well.”

“Mm, can’t wait to have you back inside me.” 

There’s a particular tone to his voice, a rhythm of breath punched out of him, that makes David wonder. “Tell me how you’re touching yourself.”

“I’ve got two fingers in my ass and a hand on my cock and I wish they were yours.”

David groans at the image and finally stops teasing himself and gets some lube on his own hand so he can shove down his clothes and stroke his cock properly. “You’re always so desperate for something inside you, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I want it to be you. Your gorgeous cock stretching me open and—and fucking pounding me.” Patrick’s voice is rough and David knows he’s close, loves that he recognises that sound and he can get Patrick there so fast.

“What have you done to deserve this cock, huh?” They should probably talk about this some time when they aren’t fucking, put some limits on the dirty talk because without it David’s mouth just keeps running away with him, but that thought doesn’t stop him. “Why should I put it in you?”

Patrick makes the most gorgeous noise, one David’s favourites. “I’ll do anything, David, please—please put it in me, I need it. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“ _Fuck._ ” David will never get over how Patrick always manages to take things a step further in the hottest way imaginable. “You’re so fucking good, such a hot fucking slut for me, I’ll give you what you need.”

“Yes, David, such a slut for you, thank you,” Patrick says, before devolving into whining and moaning and David knows the exact moment he comes. It barely takes any time for David to follow, coming so hard he feels it in his whole body.

David gets a tissue to wipe his hand as a stopgap until he can be bothered to get up and clean off properly. There’s a while where they’re both just panting into their phones and David really wishes he could kiss Patrick. That’s probably why he says the thing he’d been avoiding saying, not wanting to push what they have going on too far. “I actually have to do a pick-up run and a meeting not far from you tomorrow. I should be done a bit after midday.”

“Oh, wow.” Patrick almost-definitely sounds pleased. “Do you like Thai food?”

David blinks. Not the answer he expected. “Yes?”

“Perfect, a new Thai place just opened and I haven’t got to try it yet. We could meet there at twelve-thirty, would that work?”

David’s brain is whirring trying to recalibrate from the mildly pre-meditated booty-call he thought he was setting up when he hears his mouth say, “That sounds perfect, I’ve been meaning to try that place.” It’s true, he has been meaning to. He just hasn’t managed to work out his schedule and Stevie’s aligning so he didn’t have to go alone.

“Amazing. Okay, I should really shower, but I’m glad I get to see you tomorrow. Monday felt like too long to wait.”

“Yeah,” David says, just to say something. After all the talk of how desperate for his cock Patrick is, he’s thrown by this being the plan offered. Part of him thinks he should feel rejected, but instead he feels quite the opposite. “See you tomorrow.”

***

The lunch date with Patrick is lovely—surprisingly good food, great conversation, heavy flirting. After, they do head back to Patrick’s house to live out the fantasy after all, but David’s pretty sure they both feel that if it had just been the lunch it still would’ve been worth it.

David spends the rest of the week buried in work to try and get ahead of himself enough to actually have some time off over the long weekend, especially as he’s staying at Patrick’s on Monday night. David learned that Stevie and Alexis are heading back to New York together straight from Patrick’s place on Thanksgiving, with Rachel giving them a ride to the airport. When Patrick had asked if David would stay over, in light of that news, David couldn’t help but say yes. Butterfly will cope alone at home for one night.

With a few late nights he’s mostly set, but it’s somehow still surprising when Friday evening suddenly hits and he’s picking his sister up from the airport. He has no idea when he became the sort of person willing to pick someone up from the airport, but it’s worth it for the smile that blooms on Alexis’ face when she sees him. She runs in for a hug and it’s not even awkward any more, just natural and joyous. 

“The food on the plane was so awful, David, _please_ tell me we can eat before we head back to Schitt’s Creek,” she says, with a pathetic little pout.

“Fine, fine,” he replies—as if he wasn’t already planning that—and grabs the handle of her enormous suitcase. He’s impressed she only has one, along with her carry-on Longchamp. He still hasn’t experienced the horrors of flying coach, but he knows he’s going to need to soon. He wants to finally visit Alexis, maybe even go see his parents some time as well. Either way, he doesn’t know what she’s been through, so he always makes sure they have a nice meal when she lands.

This is her fourth trip back in the year since she left and sometimes David still can’t believe she’s willing to come all this way just to see him. Her work is more flexible than his, so she makes the effort. 

Of course, their appetizers haven’t even arrived before she’s grilling him about Patrick and he’s wondering why exactly he wanted his sister to visit, anyway. 

“So how’s it going with that guy you’re dating?”

David huffs. “We’re not _dating,_ it’s casual.” Part of him really feels like saying this is a pretence he should give up, but it’s not like they’ve talked about it. The last time they came close to putting a label on anything was at the games night where Patrick had called him an ‘exception’. Sure, things have… progressed since then, but Patrick hasn’t said anything about it. Not that David has, either.

“Hmm, but Stevie said he’s learning to knit for you, so,” Alexis says, like that’s all that needs to be said.

“He’s not learning to knit _for me,_ he’s just learning to knit! When exactly did Stevie tell you about this?”

Alexis doesn’t look convinced and just waves her fork vaguely. “We talk. She won’t tell me _anything_ about this girl she’s seeing, though. You said she’ll be there on Monday?”

David nods. “Yeah, she’s Patrick’s best friend. They were childhood sweethearts and stuff.”

Alexis clasps her hands together and bounces in her chair. “Oh my god, that’s so cute!” She pauses for a second with a look of concern. “Wait, they’re not still a thing, right? I thought you’d given up on thinking you could be into polyam when that Jake thing with Stevie happened.”

David rolls his eyes and is glad the arrival of their appetizers stops him from totally snapping at her. “Definitely not together any more, they broke off their engagement when Patrick realised he’s gay a few years ago and somehow managed to stay friends.”

“They were _engaged_? Wow, that’s rough for both of them. But you know, I think it’s a sign of real maturity when two people who were engaged can maintain a friendship.” Alexis has that squirrelly look he recognises from when she was working at the vet clinic.

David would like to say something about how she was never even really engaged, but that’s not really the point here. “Have you talked to Ted recently?”

“Mmhm, yes, we email, you know.” Alexis is useless at appearing casual, it’s clear she has more to say.

“How’s he doing?” It’s the right thing to ask, not just because he is actually interested—he likes Ted—but because it gets them off the subject of David’s Love Life for the rest of the meal.

***

It’s a good weekend. David has to work the store on Saturday, but it’s busy at least. Apparently these days Schitt’s Creek is the sort of place that actually attracts tourists on holiday weekends; the tourism video his mom did got dug up and went viral about halfway into the airing of the new _Sunrise Bay_ and it’s done wonders for the foot traffic.

Alexis flits between messing up his stock and bothering Twyla in the cafe and it’s so much like life used to be that it makes David’s heart ache a little. He’s glad he stayed here, but being around Alexis makes him realise how much he misses her. A huge part of him still can’t believe he didn’t move to New York when she did. 

Jocelyn comes in and starts talking about her cooking plans for the weekend and then stops suddenly. “Oh no, David! I didn’t even think—are you doing anything for Thanksgiving? I’m sure we could fit you, Alexis, and Stevie in.”

David’s very glad he _does_ have plans so he doesn’t need to look within himself and figure out what his response to her would have been otherwise. “We’re actually going to a friend’s house, so we’re all set, but thank you.”

She grins. “Oh, is it that Patrick from the Stitch and Bitch? He seemed so nice! And I heard from Roland the two of you seemed pretty _cosy_ at your baseball game a few weeks back.”

David attempts to turn his grimace into a smile, but doubts he’s very successful. He’s pretty sure no one caught him and Patrick entering or leaving the bleachers, but if anyone had it would have been Roland. “Mmhm, yup, that’s him!”

“Oh, that’s lovely! I could whip up an extra batch of butter tarts for you to bring, if you want? Don’t want to turn up to Thanksgiving dinner empty-handed.” She’s smiling like it’s no problem, but also like she’s trying to tell him something. 

“I was planning on bringing some wine from the store,” David replies, but he can see on her face she doesn’t think that’s enough. Is it not enough? Oh god, Patrick’s _parents_ are going to be there, he should bring food, that’s what people do. “Maybe some cheese?”

Jocelyn’s expression turns thoughtful and she nods. “That should do it, but let me know if you want the butter tarts, too. You know me, why cater when you can over-cater!”

“Maybe you could give me the recipe?” David finds himself saying before he can stop himself. “I mean, are they hard?”

He’s never seen such a big smile on Jocelyn Schitt’s face before, which is really saying something. “If you use store-bought pastry they’re no trouble at all! Do you have any paper in here, I could write it down?”

The next time Alexis completes her cycle between the cafe and the store, Jocelyn has just left with a bag full of her purchases and David has a recipe folded into his pocket. Before closing up, David buys a few things himself—he’s come to accept that there’s a limit to how much he can take from stock without paying for it, so now it always goes through the till.

Alexis insists on them going to the ridiculous ‘flower garden’ for their mom so they can take a selfie to send to their parents. The picture is actually kind of cute, plus any excuse to tease his dad about how much he messed up is a good time. Twyla has the evening off from the cafe, so they pick her up and head back to the house.

***

Sunday morning finds David with a hangover; he always forgets that trying to keep up with Twyla when drinking is a terrible idea. Luckily, he has two full days with no work. Neff made him promise he wouldn’t check in on the store or do any admin for it so he could actually enjoy the time off with his sister.

It’s still hard not to check his email first thing when he wakes up, but the hangover makes the thought of looking at a screen too much to bear. When he gets to the kitchen there’s already perfect coffee ready, thanks to Twyla having stayed over. He mumbles thanks into the mug and has half-finished it before he realises he’s letting Twyla see him in his pyjamas with bedhead. Somehow, that doesn’t seem as terrible as it should.

“I could make pancakes?” she offers. “I think you have everything you need.” They’d done an actual grocery shop for once in preparation for the weekend.

Clearly, living in Schitt’s Creek so long has seriously messed with David because he finds himself saying, “Do you want help?” If he were a true local he’d probably offer to do it himself, but he’s not quite there yet. Not when he’s seriously considering doing some _baking_ later.

Stevie joins them before too long and insists on staying to watch them cook, even though there isn’t really enough space. Alexis eventually emerges to find David whisking the batter while Twyla tells a story about how her uncle’s favourite proctologist once used a pancake to win a game of chess.

“Oh my god, does David _cook_ now?” Alexis asks Stevie, as if David isn’t even there, whapping her on the arm in excitement.

“David is _considering_ learning to cook,” he says with a glare.

“Hey, you know what you’re doing with pancakes and bacon, what more important cooking is there?” Twyla says with a smile. She’s probably trying to be encouraging, but it just makes Alexis squawk more and ask where he learned that.

“New rule! No one in the kitchen who isn’t actively cooking,” David says firmly. The batter is ready and they just need to cook it now, but he doesn’t need anyone watching that. “In fact, Twyla, I can handle it from here, you go, too.”

There’s some checking if he’s sure from Twyla and pouting from Alexis—Stevie just smirks—but then he’s alone in the kitchen. So much for not being ready to do this himself.

His pancakes aren’t quite as perfectly shaped as Patrick’s, but it’s somewhat meditative. David knows he isn’t good at being mediocre at anything—he’d scoffed at therapists who told him he should accept that building skills takes time—but he’s surprisingly pleased with his mis-shapen piles of pancakes.

He almost forgets the bacon, but luckily he manages to get it out before it burns. He calls Stevie in to help take the food out, including the maple syrup from a local maple farm he’s just found that he’s trying for the store. As everyone tucks in—Stevie and Alexis with considerable trepidation—David thinks he almost understands why people cook. There’s something deeply satisfying in being able to feed the people he cares about.

Before he tucks in he takes a picture to send to Patrick.

***

For some reason, David isn’t prepared for it to be Rachel who opens the door when they arrive on Monday. She greets them all enthusiastically, obviously well aware of who Alexis is. No one else is in the living room and when David waggles the bottle of wine he’s holding Rachel says, “Oh drop that off in the kitchen, Patrick’s in there.”

David’s fully into the kitchen before he realises that Patrick’s _parents_ are also in there, which he should have expected. “Hi,” he says, as three people turn to him.

Patrick’s face lights up gratifyingly. “David!” He puts down the spoon he was using to stir something on the stove and surprises David by hugging him and dropping a kiss on his neck. David’s still got his bags in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other so he can’t really contribute much. Patrick takes the bottle of wine out of his hand and slides an arm around David’s waist as he turns back to his parents, both of whom are paused in their chopping of things on the kitchen island. “Mom, Dad, this is David. He’s the guy I’ve been dating I told you about.”

“We could have figured that one out ourselves, son,” says Patrick’s dad with a grin. “It’s nice to meet you, David. I’m Clint and this is Marcy.” He gestures to Patrick’s mother, who waves.

“So nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Brewer,” David manages to get out, trying not to show the combined confusion, elation, and panic happening inside his head. He turns to Patrick and says, “I brought wine, obviously, but I also brought some cheese from the store which needs to go in the fridge and, um, Alexis and I made some butter tarts?” His sister had insisted on ‘helping’ with the butter tarts, but somehow they still seem to have turned out okay, based on the three he ‘sampled’.

“Oh, those are Patrick’s favourites!” Marcy says, smiling. “He was so upset I haven’t had time to make any for today.”

“I’m sure they’re not as good as yours,” David says, wondering who this parent-charming person inhabiting his body is. 

Patrick grins at him. “You’d better hope they’re not, or I’ll be asking you to make them all the time.”

David wants to kiss that grin and he guesses Patrick might not even mind him doing so in front of his parents, but that thought is a bit much right now. Instead, he busies himself putting things away. He’s so glad to have a task to do he doesn’t even think about how domestic this must look, him putting things in Patrick’s fridge like this isn’t only the second time he’s been here.

Patrick adjusts the burners on the stove and says, “Mom, Dad, can you watch all this for a minute while I go meet David’s sister?” 

They wave them off; back in the living room Alexis, Rachel, and Stevie are laughing a dangerous amount. They turn around in unison and David’s absolutely certain he and Patrick had been the topic of conversation. It makes him want to surprise them, so he finds himself saying, “Patrick, meet my sister, Alexis. Alexis, this is Patrick, the guy I’ve been dating.”

Alexis smiles so wide she could swallow a car. “It’s so nice to _finally_ meet you, Patrick!” she says like David’s somehow been hiding him away, rather than her living in a different country.

Patrick greets her and goes through the usual small talk questions before he says, “Excuse me, I just need to help David with his things and then there’s a few more bits in the kitchen, but I promise we’ll have time to talk.”

He nudges David, who follows him up to Patrick’s bedroom, wondering why Patrick didn’t just let him bring his bag up here himself. That is answered by the deep kiss Patrick lands on him the moment they’re in the room. “Sorry, I just really needed to do that,” he says sheepishly.

David drops his bag and pulls Patrick back in for another lush kiss. His hands find Patrick’s shoulders and it feels so right and natural to be with him like this. “You very much don’t need to apologise.” He smirks at Patrick. “So, we’re dating?”

Patrick blinks. “Yes? I mean, aren’t we? Or was it—I didn’t think you were at boyfriends yet, but—”

David kisses him again, partially to stop him talking and so he has some time to process, but mostly because he wants to and he can. “Can we table that part of the discussion until after we see how me bringing two very chaotic women to your family Thanksgiving goes? I just—the last time we talked about it, I was an ‘exception’.”

Patrick frowns, obviously not remembering the context.

“You said it before the games night,” David says, feeling a little silly for having held onto it so hard.

“Oh, that was—well, for one thing, I kind of panicked in the moment. Telling the guy you like and are hooking up with that you’re a serial monogamist can be considered a bit intense.” There’s something about the set of Patrick’s mouth that makes it clear that isn’t just hypothetical. “And I mean—I thought it was pretty obvious things have changed since then?”

David fiddles with his rings. “Yeah, yes, I just—I didn’t expect you to introduce me to your parents that way.”

Patrick winces and scrubs a hand over his face. “Was it too much? You need to tell me if I’m moving too fast, once I make a decision I tend to move full speed ahead.”

David shakes his head, feeling silly for doubting the feeling in his gut that Patrick really was into this. “Not too much, just… maybe we should try actually communicating from now on, if that’s not too out there for you.”

Patrick grins and drops another kiss on David’s lips. “That sounds good, let’s do that, but for now I need to finish making the food. Sorry for not being able to hang out.” He frowns. “It’s not weird that Rachel’s sort of playing host while I’m cooking, is it? I didn’t even think of that.”

David laughs a little. “It’s seriously fine, I don’t mind you playing the sexy little housewife to her for the day.”

Patrick flushes in an extremely interesting way and wags his finger at David. “Stop it, you!” An alarm on his phone goes off and his face goes serious. “Shit, the turkey’s ready, it’s go time. Tell everyone that dinner will be served in about half an hour?” He squeezes at David’s sides and rushes out of the room. 

David takes a moment to take in everything that’s happened since he got here. It’s not jinxing anything to acknowledge that he and Patrick are actually dating. Patrick maybe even wants to be at ‘boyfriends’ even though they’ve only had a few dates. David kind of thinks he might be there, too. Okay.

***

Rachel insists she doesn’t need help setting the table and when it’s time to sit down David suspects he sees why. Set at each place is a small, beautiful, glass pumpkin.

“Wow, Patrick, you _made_ these?” Stevie asks, awe evident in her voice that reminds David she hasn’t really seen his work yet. He’s left the glass ball of yarn on his desk at work until he decides the perfect place for it at home with no risk of Butterfly knocking it over.

Patrick ducks his head, but David can see his grin. “I thought it would be fun to give everyone a little seasonal gift.”

“Um, _wow,_ Patrick,” Alexis says and David feels a sort of pride in someone else for Patrick that he’s only felt for her or Stevie before.

“He’s very talented,” David says, feeling smug, not remembering that Patrick’s parents are there. They’re looking at David more fondly than he might be able to take.

They start serving up the impressive spread and split into different conversations. David finds it far easier to talk to Patrick’s parents than he expected. They do seem like nice people, but with a bit of an edge of sarcasm that sets him at ease. They get into talking about his store and David realises this is actually a great chance to talk about the new plan.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking more and more about trying to incorporate artists of a sort who don’t fit so much into the ‘general store’ idea and Patrick came up with a great idea,” David says, noting the way Patrick obviously tunes in on hearing his name. “I’m going to have featured artists in the store—a local artist displaying some of their work and hopefully even doing some workshops and things.”

Suddenly David realises that everyone is paying attention. They all look impressed and he’s excited to finally share the concept. Alexis has a thoughtful look on her face that he knows means she’s going to barrage him with ways to market this most effectively once she’s strategised a bit.

“That sounds wonderful, David,” Mrs Brewer says with a smile.

“Yeah, yes, I really think it could be great. Obviously, Patrick will be the first artist and then I’ll expand from there. I’m really excited to get the chance to explore the local art scene.”

“I’ll be—what?” Patrick’s expression is confused, which makes no sense. 

“You’ll be the first artist. We talked about this—I showed you what the plan was when you were at the store.” David’s brain whirs as he tries to remember explicitly saying that, but—surely it must have been said? “I’ve been trying to get your work in the store since the day we met!”

“I don’t—I, um. Wow.” Patrick looks totally bamboozled. “Um, we can talk about that later?” The rest of the table is in an awkward silence. “I’ll get us more of that amazing wine!” Patrick says and rushes off, even though everyone’s glass is full. 

“Stevie, have I told you about my latest project at work?” Alexis says, using her scene stealing powers for good for once. “I have to deal with this totally _ridiculous_ director who thinks just because he directed a commercial starring Charlize Theron he’s actually impressive...”

David thinks maybe he should give Patrick some space, except he really can’t deal with the concerned looks from Mr and Mrs Brewer right now. He smiles at them as best he can and heads right for the kitchen, where Patrick is standing staring blankly at the fridge.

“Are you okay? I really thought we’d discussed that plan.”

Patrick shakes himself a little and looks at David. “I’m fine, I just. I didn’t realise—you haven’t mentioned stocking my work since that fair.”

David blinks. “What? Of course I have—why did you think I came here that first time, in your workshop?”

Patrick’s face goes bright red and he sputters a little. 

“Oh, I _see_ what you thought I was here for,” David says, unable to help smirking.

“To be fair, David, you didn’t exactly seem opposed,” Patrick says, a lot more composed now he’s found an angle for teasing David. 

David really wants to kiss him, so he does, but he keeps it chaste. It would be far too easy to get into something right now, with the look that Patrick’s giving him. “I would be happy to show you again just how unopposed I am, but we should probably get back to dinner. We’ll talk properly later?”

Patrick gives David another soft kiss and smiles wryly. “I guess we have a lot of that whole communication thing to work on.” He takes David’s hand and walks them back to where everyone’s eating. Alexis is still charming the Brewers with her stories and they at least pretend to not be closely watching David and Patrick’s return.

Stevie’s more subtle; she at least waits for David to sit down before she mouths _you okay?_ David feels honest nodding in response, which is pretty new and exciting after something that could have been his first fight with a new partner. 

Eventually, the conversation moves on to Stevie’s work and—though he’d never tell her this—seeing how proud Rachel looks of her when Stevie talks about the success of the Rosebud Motel Group warms his heart. Stevie deserves someone who thinks the world of her and he thinks she might have found it.

Then they get into embarrassing stories—Marcy and Clint have them for Rachel as well as Patrick; it’s clear she’s been close to his family for a long time. They tell a story about Patrick crying because they wouldn’t let him jump out of his treehouse to see if he could fly. It’s hilarious until Alexis decides to jump in with the time David tried to stage a hunger strike when his father wouldn’t buy him a diamond brooch he saw in the Tiffany catalogue and only lasted half a day.

Alexis is frustratingly resistant to being embarrassed, especially in this group where she doesn’t really have anyone she wants to save face in front of, so David’s only recourse is to embarrass Stevie. He tells them about how she always cries at the finale of the Bachelor, even if she hates the final couple. She counters by pointing out he’s the one who got them into the show in the first place and “they use very emotionally manipulative editing techniques!”

When they finish eating an alarming amount, Rachel gets up to start clearing the table. The Brewers try to help, but she tells them they made the food so they should just stay put, which knocks David out of his food coma enough to start helping out, too. Stevie also joins in and David’s tempted to kick Alexis to get her on board, but it’s probably easier without her.

“It’s nice how close you are with Patrick’s parents,” he finds himself saying to Rachel once they’re in the kitchen, her packing up leftovers while David and Stevie load the dishwasher.

“Yeah, my family isn’t always great, so his kind of took me in. I never thought I’d get to keep them when we broke up.” 

Stevie comes over to give Rachel’s side a squeeze and David decides to save teasing her about how sweet they are until they’re alone again. “They seem really… nice,” he says instead. He doesn’t mean it to sound negative, but Rachel gives him a sympathetic look.

“They definitely like you,” Rachel says confidently.

“Even if we decided to show off our _stellar_ communication skills in the middle of dinner?”

Rachel waves his concern away. “Patrick’s weird about being considered an artist, don’t worry about it. They’d like you because he does, but they _really_ like you because you want to show off his work.”

“I’ve still barely seen anything he’s done, you know,” Stevie says. “I mean, the pumpkin thing is very cool, but I don’t think I trust either of you to judge his work objectively.”

David huffs and has to be careful not to fling the plate he’s holding. “Um, I have _excellent_ taste and you know I thought he was a dick when I first wanted his work.” He winces and looks at Rachel, “I mean—”

She laughs. “Oh, he was _absolutely_ being a dick to you when we were working up my contract and I told him as much.”

“Yeah, but even if he was a dick then, you still wanted _his_ dick the moment you saw him, don’t lie,” Stevie adds in, because she’s a menace. 

There’s the sound of a throat clearing from the doorway and David’s life passes before his eyes before he realises— _thank fuck_ —it’s Patrick, looking pretty pleased with himself. Of course, that means Alexis is alone with Patrick’s parents and god only knows what damage she could be doing.

“That’s enough clean-up for now; we should bring the pies out,” is all Patrick says, despite the amusement twinkling in his eyes.

***

The pies are delicious—including the butter tarts, to David’s surprise—and David manages to convince Patrick to let them all see his workshop. Stevie and Alexis are clearly genuinely impressed and David’s puffed up like a peacock with pride. Then it’s time for Rachel to give Stevie and Alexis a ride to the airport.

Saying goodbye to Alexis is always hard. David really doesn’t want to cry in front of Patrick and his family, but he still gets close; especially as Stevie’s going, too. She’ll be back in a few days, but usually after Alexis leaves he relies on Stevie to get him drunk and let him pretend he doesn’t have feelings. 

As they wave them off, Patrick slides an arm around David’s waist and he lets himself lean into it. “My parents are going to have a post-lunch nap. Shall we follow their example?”

That sounds kind of amazing, but also… “There won’t be weirdness if they know we’re sharing a bed?” David wouldn’t think twice about that with his parents around, but he knows his family is far from conventional.

Patrick shakes his head. “I mean, they know that you’re staying the _night_ in my bed, so I don’t know that a nap would shock them. Maybe if they thought we were going for some afternoon delight,” Patrick says with a thoughtful look that David knows means trouble. “If you want to fuck instead of napping we should probably go to the workshop, but that seems like a lot of work and I don’t want to make a habit of having sex in there.”

David laughs, even though he wants to look scolding. “They know I’m staying over?”

“Well yeah, they’re staying, too, so they’d have noticed,” Patrick says, before suddenly facepalming. “Is that another thing I forgot to tell you?”

David can’t even be annoyed at this point. Thanksgiving could have been a disaster with all the things they’ve realised they’d failed to discuss, but somehow it’s still okay. “We definitely need to work on the talking part of this relationship.” He still experiences some ridiculous nerves using the word relationship, but less than he would have before.

“After a nap?”

“After a nap.”

***

David wakes up slowly. It was one of those really _good_ naps, where it doesn’t go too long and you actually feel refreshed after. He stretches and rolls onto his back carefully, not wanting to wake Patrick. It turns out not to be necessary, as he’s apparently awake enough to turn around and snuggle into David, throwing a leg over him.

It’s nice, lying together like this, nothing to do with sex. Well, it probably wouldn’t be hard to turn it into sex—Patrick’s warm body pressed against him is certainly alluring—but he doesn’t want to. Patrick tucks his head against David’s chest and speaks, voice not much more than a whisper. “You really want me as a featured artist?”

David pulls him in closer, feeling a surge of protectiveness at the vulnerability in Patrick’s voice. “Of course I do. You’re amazing.”

Patrick makes a disbelieving noise. “I don’t know that you’re unbiased here.”

David sighs. “Of course I’m biased—we bring our biases into art all the time—but the first time I saw your work I wanted to talk to you about it, before I’d even seen you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I was thinking so hard about my pitch I walked straight into this hot guy.”

Patrick pulls back a bit so he can see David’s face. “Oh really? Well, I hope you were very apologetic.”

David huffs. “I was embarrassed and stressed out so I fell back on some old rude instincts. Then I got distracted by his amazing hand-knit sweater and he left before I could apologise.”

Patrick laughs and snuggles back into David’s chest. “That must have been really difficult for you.”

“Mmhm.” They lie quietly for a while, before David takes a deep breath. There’s a theory he’s starting to form. “Patrick, why weren’t you interested in talking to me about supplying Rose Apothecary at first? Other than thinking I was a pretentious asshole, I mean. You sold at that fair.”

It takes a while for Patrick to answer, but he’s still cuddled in tight against David, so he figures he just needs some time. “The fair taught me what I suspected, which is that I’m not actually interested in mass-production on any sort of scale. I don’t want to make a load of plates and vases and practical things.” He sounds frustrated with himself. “Even the pumpkins for today—I liked making some for the people I care about, but I have no interest in spending days producing a load of them to sell.”

“You know that’s okay, right? To want to make art for art’s sake.”

Patrick sighs into David’s sweater. “It’s only because of my massive privilege I can, though. Most glassblowers don’t have that choice.”

“That’s true. So, see what you can do to help other artists develop, but don’t force yourself to do something you don’t want to do out of guilt or obligation when you don’t need to.”

Patrick’s body shakes slightly and for a moment David thinks he’s crying, but quickly realises he’s actually laughing. Patrick pulls away and lies on his back, smiling, but rolling his eyes. “I thought when I broke up with Rachel and came out I’d stopped doing that, but apparently not.”

David reaches down and holds Patrick’s hand. “I’ll try to keep reminding you.”

“That would be very nice.” Patrick squeezes David’s hand in response.

“So, would you like to be Rose Apothecary’s first featured artist? I promise I’m not just asking because you’re my boyfriend.” He definitely didn’t mean to say _that_ word. He thinks it’s a sign of his maturity that he doesn’t immediately try to deflect or take it back.

Patrick pulls David’s hand up and kisses the back of it. “Well, my boyfriend has excellent taste and he says I’m an _amazing_ artist. So I guess I’d better.”

***

The evening is surprisingly easy after that. They put Some Like It Hot on the television and the four of them watch it together. Patrick’s working on his toque and Marcy comments to David how excited she was to see he’s decided to learn to knit. Before too long they’re friends on Ravelry and David is trying to convince her to give up knitting with acrylic yarn.

David doesn’t even realise Patrick and his Dad have stepped away until they return with leftover sandwiches for all of them. Once they’ve finished eating, Patrick wraps an arm around David and pulls him in close and it’s comfortable in a way that David feels deep down. When Alexis and Stevie text to say they’ve landed it’s not nearly as painful as it might have been.

That night, in the dark of Patrick’s bedroom, David manages to start the conversation about their limits in bed he knows they should have had earlier. It feels easy, even as he puts words to things he generally prefers to show. After, they wrap themselves together and kiss until their lips are tired and sore. Eventually they get each other off, as quietly as possible, but it feels like so much more than that. It feels like maybe the two of them are creating something new together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... wow. The last chapter. Thanks again for everyone who helped with this and for this chapter extra thanks for DoubleL27 for helping with Derby stuff. 
> 
> There's a [pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/Janecdotes/artistpat/) for this story if anyone is interested (some mild spoilers for this chapter). Thanks for taking this journey with me. Oh, and I've made this a series in the hopes I revisit this universe, please subscribe to that to be informed in and when I do!

Patrick feels like he’s floating after Thanksgiving. He’s still unsure about the whole idea of being David’s first ‘featured artist’, but he’s excited about working with David more to figure it out. David, who is his _boyfriend_. It had probably been a bit early to introduce him to his parents, but this was the first Thanksgiving that Patrick had hosted and he’d have kicked himself if he hadn’t included David.

Getting to meet Alexis had also been great. It showed him another side of David, one he’d seen hints of but really shone through when he was around his sister. He was his usual haughty self, but with a layer of softness and protectiveness that Patrick just wanted to roll around in.

It lasts until the next time his assistant, Tina, comes over. He’d given her the day after Thanksgiving off, so it’s been just over a week. In that week he’s seen David as much as possible and texted or called him a lot of the time it wasn’t. He’s also been doing a lot of work, trying to decide what he’s going to do for his display.

Tina notices the moment she comes in. “Wow, Patrick, you’ve been busy. Are you finally going to do a show?”

She’s mentioned it on and off as something he should do, but he’s been resistant. His mentor, Laurel, had shown some work he’d helped her with, but he’s only ever displayed it at that one craft fair.

Telling her what’s coming up should be exciting, but it makes the weight of trying to really establish himself as an artist weigh on him. Even so, she’s asked a direct question, so he answers it. “Yes, sort of. David’s planning on featuring some artists at Rose Apothecary and he’s asked me to be the first one.”

“That’s incredible!” Tina says, lighting up. It was clear when they’d talked about it before that she really likes David’s store, but this enthusiasm feels like more than that. “I’m so glad people will finally get to see your work.”

It’s uncomfortable for Patrick—he wants to deflect or make a self-deprecating joke, but stops himself. He needs to learn how to take a compliment and he might as well start here. There are certain things he’s never struggled with being praised for, but somehow this feels different. Even with singing and performing he’s always been pretty confident he’s good. With his glass work, even years in, he feels like he’s pulled off some sort of trick and any day now he’s going to be caught out. With Tina’s thoughtful look at the things he’s worked on over the past week he feels ready to move forward with it even so.

It feels good to get into the rhythm of working with her. Glassblowing with an assistant is different from his solo work and it feels like looking at things from a different angle. He can’t exist solely in his head, because he needs to communicate with Tina.

Today is the first time Patrick realises how good at working together they’ve gotten. He feels more confident in her understanding of his vision and there’s no caution to her any more. It feels more like when he was working with Laurel and it fires Patrick up as they work the molten glass together.

***

It’s silly to feel such nervous excitement on arriving at Stevie and David’s house, but it’s been four days since he last saw David and that is too long as far as Patrick’s concerned. Stevie’s out of town again—just for the night this time—and David has decided he wants to cook Patrick dinner. Patrick offered to come and help, but David was very stubborn about being the one to cook.

The door opens and Patrick holds out the bouquet of flowers he couldn’t resist buying. It’s a bunch of white roses in a vase he made; a gradient of clear and blue glass, with groups of thin dark lines across it. “I wasn’t going to go for the Rose pun, I promise, but they were the only flowers I thought you might approve of that aren’t poisonous to cats.”

David does the thing he does with his face when he thinks someone’s being too nice to him and Patrick can never resist kissing that look. It’s a deep, lush kiss, even with the vase held between them, which only breaks because Patrick finds himself smiling too much to keep it going.

“Well, _hello_ to you, Mr Brewer,” David says with a flirty shimmy. “What’s gotten into you today?”

“Nothing, yet—” Patrick lets a filthy grin slide onto his face “—But I could be convinced.”

David laughs—not long, but real—and Patrick wonders if his giddy mood is actually infectious. “Okay, I did not cook an _actual meal_ only to let it burn because we were too busy fucking to hear the timer go off.”

“But we could turn off the oven first,” Patrick replies with his best innocent look as he hangs up his coat and takes his shoes off. “On the other hand whatever you made smells amazing, so maybe eating first.”

David puts the vase of flowers down on the table and then pulls him into the kitchen. His grin is spectacular as he opens the oven to pull out a lasagne.

“Oh my god, David. You made me _lasagne?_ ”

David ducks his head shyly as he puts it down and says, “Your mother may have helped.”

Patrick blinks, taking a moment to process this. “You talked to my _mom?_ Wait, if this is her lasagne recipe why aren’t we eating already?” He’s joking, but he’s also serious. This is his favourite meal, especially for a day like today when the weather’s started to have a real bite to it.

“I may have been trading knitting patterns with your mom and then panicked at her that I said I’d cook for you.”

Patrick pulls David in for a kiss, relishing the soft warmth of his sweater as his hands go around David’s waist. “Why aren’t _I_ in the knitting pattern text thread? I’m a knitter now, too.” In the couple of weeks since Thanksgiving Patrick has finished his toque and a pair of mittens; he’s now working on a scarf.

“Mm, we’re a bit advanced for you, dear,” David says patronisingly, a glint in his eye.

Patrick would love to continue the teasing, but—“Can we eat the lasagne now?”

It’s delicious. Not as good as his Mom’s, obviously, but he can’t believe David made this for him.

“I didn’t just make it for _you_ , I expect the leftovers to be feeding me for at least a few days,” David says when Patrick expresses this sentiment.

“Does that mean I’m not allowed seconds?” Patrick’s just finished his first portion, along with making a real dent in the spinach salad David made on the side.

“Of course you can, I’m not a _monster!_ ” David replies, putting a hand to his chest like he’s horribly offended. Butterfly appears then, obviously interested in the human food, but David insists that Patrick isn’t to feed her any of it. Patrick can’t help himself, though, and crouches down by the cat to give her ears a scritch while David gets them seconds.

As they finish eating the second time they get talking about David’s store. It’s come up more and more recently, with David slowly giving Patrick more depth on the business model and how it works with the supply of the motel chain alongside the store. It scratches an itch Patrick didn’t realise he still had and David seems to really value his input. Plus, there’s just something really wonderful about hearing how passionate David is.

They get so into discussing sales patterns and projections that David says, “Actually, let me get my laptop.”

Patrick insists on clearing the table and filling the dishwasher first and David feeds Butterfly in the meantime. It’s an easy sort of domesticity Patrick hasn’t reached with a boyfriend in quite this way, even though there are guys he’s been with for longer. It feels really good.

After that, they get back to the dining table with the laptop in front of them. Their seats are close enough that David’s a line of warmth down Patrick’s side as he leans forward and pulls up a spreadsheet.

It’s… beautiful. Aesthetically, yes, but also it’s very clear while being incredibly information dense; there’s macros and formulas and colour-coded drop downs. “Wow,” Patrick can’t help but say.

David looks incredibly pleased with that response. “I kind of got very deep into all this stuff when I realised how much lazier it let me be in the long run. I’d much rather look up how to write a formula to work out the trends, than have to do it myself.”

Patrick grins; that’s something so many people don’t seem to get about using these tools properly. It’s so much _easier_ than any other way, once you know what you’re doing. “Exactly.” He goes to start looking in more detail and pauses. “Is it okay for me to dig around here? You can guide me if you have something specific you wanted me to see.”

David turns Patrick’s head for an unexpected kiss. “Yeah. I mean—I wouldn’t want you going through it without me here, but go for it.”

It’s impressive work and the store is obviously a well-oiled machine at this point. He asks David questions and makes some suggestions and before he knows it an hour has passed. Patrick’s just finished explaining some of the online tools that could help with tax upkeep when he notices David’s looking at him particularly fondly. “What?”

David smiles brightly. “You just really are a business nerd, aren’t you? It’s not some front you were putting on to help Rachel.”

Patrick can feel himself blushing. “Uh, yeah. I hated the whole corporate engine I got caught up in, but I miss doing this stuff, sometimes. I figured I’d probably combine it with my glass work—a lot of artists are basically running their own business—I just haven’t found an idea that really clicks yet.”

David drops a gentle kiss on his mouth. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

That light kiss drops Patrick back into his body; he suddenly realises there’s a very low burn in his gut that could easily turn into arousal, from being pressed up against David and seeing how incredibly smart and determined he is. He pulls David into a fierce kiss, nipping at his bottom lip on the way and loving how it makes him gasp.

David responds instantly and plays dirty, getting his hand on the back of Patrick’s head and tugging on his curls. It’s almost silly, how quickly they go from talking about quarterly taxes to making out, hot and heavy. It’s playful in a way that matches the giddy mood Patrick arrived with. He slides his teeth against David’s jaw, loving the feeling of scraping against the stubble there and David lets out a puff of laughter.

“You _really_ like spreadsheets, huh?”

Patrick loves being able to feel the shift of muscles in his face as he grins. He gets over to David’s ear and whispers, in his best sultry voice, “Oh yeah, baby, love when you show me your _long, hard_ stock calculations.”

David laughs, but he also pulls Patrick by his hair back into a kiss so Patrick can lick that laughter from his mouth. It’s not long before David’s getting up and tugging him by the hand to his bedroom and firmly shutting the door behind him so Butterfly can’t walk in on them.

Patrick hasn’t spent much time in David’s bedroom—mostly he’s been over here in a more social context, with Stevie and often Rachel around as well. It’s a more specifically David aesthetic than the rest of the house, with a monochromatic colour palette. It makes Patrick feel warm to know that the communal areas are such a mix of David and Stevie, because it’s been made clear that David took charge of decorating it.

He doesn’t have much time to look around and be reminded of how thoughtful his boyfriend is before said boyfriend is pulling off his clothes. David makes quick work of Patrick’s sweater and undershirt, laying them over a chair before kissing over Patrick’s collarbone. There are a couple of fading marks there already and David lightly nips at one of them.

Patrick groans at the feeling. He loves there not being time for them to fade in between; it shows the passage of time on his body in a way he’s pretty sure they both love. “You like seeing your marks over me, eh?”

David pulls back and quirks an eyebrow at him. “Oh, and you don’t?”

Patrick smirks. “Nah, of course not. I’m just very supportive of my boyfriend being such a vampire.”

David twists his mouth to the side. “ _Supportive,_ huh. Is _that_ what we’re calling it?”

Patrick gets his hands under David’s sweater and starts to pull it up, letting his nails dig into David’s skin as he does. “Absolutely.”

David helps get the sweater off and laid over the chair as he says, “If I’m a vampire, you’re a fucking werewolf. I don’t even get to _see_ those marks unless I get Stevie to take a picture of them.”

“Have you really done that?” The idea is kind of funny and also somehow really hot.

David rolls his eyes. “I’ve thought about it, but she’d definitely troll the fuck out of you if I did.”

Patrick pulls him in for a kiss. “How thoughtful of you.”

“I’m an extremely thoughtful person.”

“You are,” Patrick says sincerely, because it’s true, and because it always throws David for a loop when he switches gears like that. He goes in for a deeper kiss before saying, “You know, she’ll find _something_ to troll me about regardless, so go for it. As long as I get to see the picture.” Another kiss. “Although, I could also help you with that.”

David wriggles a little at the suggestion. “Mmm, I will take that under advisement, but I had something a little different in mind today.”

Patrick allows his hands to roam a little and lays a series of wet kisses down David’s neck. He knows David is waiting for him to ask what and is very fond of the way he pouts when Patrick won’t comply immediately. Eventually, David sharply pinches his side. Patrick yelps and laughs. “Okay, tell me your _vision._ ”

“That might be my favourite thing to hear you say,” David says, with a dramatic contented sigh. “I was thinking you could restrain me and fuck me? Maybe manhandle me a little.”

Patrick can’t help but pull David closer and grind against him. They’re both well on their way to hard already. “Yeah, you’d like that? Want me to tie you up and be rough with you?”

David makes a noise deep in his throat. “I was thinking more cuffs? Unless you’re a secret shibari enthusiast, in which case I am _very_ interested in that.”

Patrick’s heard of shibari; he came across some once and spent an evening going deep down the rabbit hole of looking up incredibly beautiful ropework techniques. He got so into learning about it he nearly forgot he’d found it in the first place because he was looking for something to jerk off to. It’s something he’s admired more for technique and aesthetic than for sexual appeal, but the idea of _David_ covered in an intricate web of ropes that he could use to position him however he wants is incredibly appealing.

David pinches him again. “Sorry, thought I might be losing you there.”

Patrick glares, but he knows it’s obvious he’s trying not to smile. “Sorry, you just said something incredibly _distracting._ ” He strokes his fingers lightly over David’s side to make him squirm a little, just a touch heavier than a tickle. “Sadly, I have no mastery of ancient rope techniques. I assume you have cuffs?”

David nods and goes to his bedside table, retrieving some beautiful black leather cuffs with silver hardware, along with some lube and condoms. There’s something almost familiar about the design and then Patrick remembers. “Oh, are these from that woman who was at the Elmington Craft Fair?”

David smiles crookedly and nods. “Yes, these are made by Gwen, though I generally try to forget that.”

“Oh?”

“Ugh, she used to live in Schitt’s Creek and when she left it was a whole thing,” David waves his hand vaguely. “That’s the closest craft fair she’ll attend now and she only agreed to sell these to me if I kept having seen her a secret.”

Patrick blinks and turns the cuffs over in his hands. “Well, they’re very nice and she certainly seemed to be living her best life when I saw her.”

David laughs, shaking his head the way he does when he thinks Patrick is being way too nice. “Mm, yes, why don’t we forget all that and use them to live _our_ best lives.”

“Well alright, then.”

They make out a bit more first, before getting all the way naked. As soon as David’s finished laying his pants on the chair so he won’t worry about them, Patrick gets one hand against his chest and one under his ass and half-pushes, half-tosses David onto the bed, which already has a towel laid across it because David likes to be prepared.

The response is gratifying. “Holy fuck,” David says in a strangled voice. His pupils are blown wide as he stares at Patrick and his hand goes to his dick like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

“That the sort of thing you were after?” Patrick says, full shit-eating grin on display.

“It’s a start,” David says dismissively, but his eyes are still dark and he’s stroking his cock slowly now, deliberately making a show of it.

Patrick gets onto the bed and pushes David up roughly, so his head is at the pillows. “Why don’t you leave that gorgeous cock to me?” he says, pulling David’s hand away from it.

“Why don’t you make me?” David replies, but he lets his hand be moved. Patrick grabs David’s other hand while he’s at it and presses them against the pillow on either side of David’s head. He pushes against the hold a little and smiles when Patrick holds him firm.

They make out like that for a while and Patrick’s blown away by how into it he is. The physicality of holding someone larger than him in place with his body is a heady rush. David could almost certainly throw him off if he wanted to, but that’s why it’s so good. David’s letting it happen—opening his mouth to Patrick’s tongue, rubbing his cock against Patrick’s—even as he occasionally tests the hold on his wrists. Every time he strains and Patrick doesn’t let up David whines into their joined mouths.

“God, you fucking love this, don’t you?” Patrick asks when he finally breaks away, panting for breath.

“Yeah, yes, Patrick. You’re so good at this,” David moans, voice utterly wrecked.

Patrick licks up the inside of David’s forearm, just because he can. “I want to get at this gorgeous body, though. I don’t think you can be trusted to keep your hands to yourself if I’m not helping you, what do you think?”

David throws his head back and takes a deep breath. “I need help, yes, please. Put the cuffs on me to help me be good?”

Patrick groans and kisses him again. _Fuck,_ that’s so hot. Basically everything he’s seen about this sort of bondage stuff—mostly admittedly mediocre porn—was about the person being tied up being ‘punished’. That’s fine, Patrick can understand why that appeals, but this is something else and it sets him alight inside. “You’re so fucking good, David, you know that? You’re the _best,_ ” he says forcefully, trying to get the intensity of his feelings across.

David’s face is so open as he looks at Patrick and it almost hurts, seeing how much he wants to believe it, but that he’s not sure he does. “Yeah?”

Patrick pulls each of David’s hands to his mouth and kisses them. “Yeah, and I’m going to cuff you to the bed and show you.”

David nods. “Please.”

Patrick sits up and gets the cuffs before carefully closing them around David’s wrists and clipping them to the bars of his headboard. He clips and unclips them both a couple of times to be sure he knows how to remove them from the bar quickly. There’s a loop he could use to lock them, but he’s not going to suggest that for this first time—he likes that David could probably get them undone himself if he wanted to.

“You good?”

“So good,” David says and Patrick leans down to give him a gentle kiss.

From there, he goes slow. He varies his touches, all across David’s body—everything from the most delicate brush of a finger, to a harsh scratch of nails—and all the while he talks.

He tells David how gorgeous every part of him is. How funny and smart and insightful he is. He talks about how he was so giddy when he arrived today because spending time with David, any time, is enough to make him want to jump up and down in excitement. David’s unusually quiet through it all, but always watching with a kind of awe. He’s obviously aroused, but he doesn’t try to push Patrick to hurry it up, even as Patrick kisses and licks and strokes his inner thighs while completely ignoring his leaking, desperate cock.

Patrick finally reaches for the lube and then shoves David’s thighs up and out, so his knees are bent and his legs spread wide. David wanted him to be rough and he’s not forgetting that, even if his words have never been as soft as this. He lubes up a finger and slowly, _slowly_ slides it into David. He knows that David wants him to move faster, but he’s taking his time. He’s not had nearly enough chances to do this yet and he wants to savour it.

“David,” he says, waiting until David’s eyes really focus and meet his, before continuing. “Being with you makes me feel like I do when I’m in the workshop and I know that what I’m doing is _right_ —like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be and I’m creating something beautiful.”

And then he slides another finger into David, a lot more force behind it, and sucks the head of David’s cock into his mouth. He’s never heard David make a noise so loud before; it sounds almost wrung out from him, like it came from his very soul. He keeps his suction gentle, mostly licking around David’s cock and tasting some of the copious amounts of pre-come he’s been leaking, but he moves his fingers more forcefully.

Patrick fucks David with hard, slow thrusts of his fingers and gets a third in as soon as he can tell that David’s ready for it. Before long, David says “Please, Patrick, please,” the first actual words he’s said in a while.

“Please what?” Patrick says, removing his mouth from David’s dick just long enough to reply. He curls his fingers so he can rub David’s prostate and feel the way it makes his cock jerk and leak in Patrick’s mouth.

David groans, “Please, please fuck me? I want you in me, _now._ ” There’s a hint of growl in his voice at the end of the sentence, a layer of command that zips through Patrick and makes him aware of his own ignored arousal.

“Whatever you want, David.” He gives a kiss to the head of David’s cock before sliding his fingers out and sitting up, ignoring David’s whine of protest at being empty.

He quickly gets a condom on and resists the urge to stroke his cock any more than necessary to coat it in lube, but he takes a minute to just look at the man laid before him. “You are _so_ gorgeous, David. I’m so lucky,” he says, his voice rough with emotion and arousal.

David's eyes are wide; overwhelmed, but in the very best way. “Patrick, _please._ ”

Patrick pulls David’s ass up and slides his knees underneath him. “You still want me to fuck you _hard?_ ”

David nods wildly, wiggling his hips in Patrick’s lap a little. “Yeah, want to _feel_ it.”

“You’ve been so good for me, you should get whatever you want,” Patrick replies, and slides into David. Once he’s all the way in, he stops to take a deep breath and let David adjust. He’s so fucking _tight,_ so wet and hot around Patrick’s cock. Once he feels a bit more under control, he gets his arms under David’s legs—David quickly gets with the program, lifting them so his calves are resting on Patrick’s shoulders—and moves his hips, starting a steady, intense pace from the beginning.

David’s gorgeous like this. His shoulders and head are the only parts of his body still on the bed and his hands clutch the bars of the headboard as he gasps and moans. They don’t talk as much as they often do, there’s just the sounds of their bodies meeting again and again.

Eventually, Patrick can’t help but grip David’s hips hard and pull up so he can kneel a bit higher, getting a new angle and making David balance even more precariously on his shoulders.

“Oh _fuck,_ ” David shouts. “Right there—please, right there.”

Patrick does his best to keep thrusting hard, right where David wants him. He’s never been more glad for the strength in his arms than now, holding his boyfriend’s ass in the air as he fucks him just the way he wants. “Whatever you want, David, I want to give you _everything,_ ” he says, panting with the effort. “You’re so fucking sexy, take my cock so well, you’re so _good._ ”

As he says this he lands a thrust extra hard and suddenly David is _coming_ , cock completely untouched, wordless noises of pleasure pouring out of him. Patrick can barely get his head together to get one hand around David’s dick, stroking him through it as he watches David’s face and tries not to drop him with just one arm holding his hips up.

When David whines like the touch is too much, Patrick wipes his hand on the towel under David and slowly lowers him so Patrick’s back to sitting on his heels properly with David’s hips in his lap. He moves to pull out and David clings with his legs. “Did you come? I want you to come in me,” David says plaintively.

Patrick loves the idea of thrusting into a sloppy, fucked-out David until he comes, but he also wants to be closer to him. “Yeah, just—give me a minute?” He pulls out slowly, apologising to David when he grumbles, and moves around David’s side until he can unclip the cuffs and take them off. David gives him a soft, surprised look as he checks and kisses each of his wrists as he does it. “I want you to be able to hold me,” Patrick explains, feeling completely flayed open.

“I can do that,” David says, pulling him in for a kiss. It doesn’t last nearly as long as Patrick would like, but then David says, “Now get your dick back in me.”

Patrick laughs, heart feeling so light he can hardly stand it as he moves back in-between David’s legs. “If you insist,” he says, before sliding back in and leaning down so he’s pressed completely against David and can reach his mouth for another kiss.

It’s slow and intense from there. David holds him close and lets Patrick just pant into his mouth; too overwhelmed by sensation to really kiss any more but not wanting to move away. Eventually he does, just to tuck his head into David’s neck, mouthing into the skin there as he can feel his orgasm drawing closer and closer.

David has one hand in his hair—not pulling, just holding him there—and the other arm wrapped around him and is saying sweet nothings that make Patrick feel like he’s going to explode, just burst with everything he feels for this incredible man.

“Patrick, you’re so good, so amazing for me, I can’t get enough of you, come for me, Patrick, want you to come in me,” he says and Patrick does. It’s maybe the most intense orgasm of his whole life—like the intensity of the first time he had sex with a man and realised _this_ is what had always been missing, but even more than that. A sort of all-consuming sensation that rocks him to his core.

He barely manages to grip the condom as he pulls out and collapses half on top of David, who keeps holding and stroking Patrick while he comes back to himself.

“Wow,” Patrick eventually says.

“Yeah,” David agrees. They’re silent a bit longer before David adds, “We should have more lasagne.”

Patrick laughs and forces his muscles to coordinate enough for him to kiss somewhere in the vicinity of David’s mouth. “We should _definitely_ have more lasagne, but we should clean up first.”

David rolls his eyes, but he’s openly grinning. “I thought you artist-types were supposed to be more free-spirited than that.”

Patrick chuckles and nuzzles David’s cheek. “I can be free-spirited when I don’t still have a condom full of come on my dick.

He can feel the way David’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “Ew.”

“Exactly.”

David turns to kiss Patrick again. “Although, now you mention it, I am now incredibly aware of how much I need a shower.”

Patrick grins. “Shower and then lasagne?”

David nods emphatically. “Shower and then lasagne.”

***

Attending Heather’s roller derby bout with his friends is a perfect event to take Patrick’s mind off constantly thinking about his display at Rose Apothecary. Her team is the Elm Valley Rollergirls—also known as the ElmDevils—and the bout is in an old empty warehouse. It helps that it’s just a week until the end of October and the place is decked out in spooky style. Patrick has never been much of one for going all-out for a costume, but he loves Halloween.

“Patrick, Rachel, over here!” someone shouts enthusiastically as they run towards them. Once they get closer they see it’s Ken, in an incredible gender-fuck costume that makes him look just like the team’s Devil mascot. Patrick had been informed in no uncertain terms to be in costume as there’ll be a competition later. “So glad you guys came!” Ken looks them up and down. “Rachel, amazing costume, you make an excellent Sandra Dead.” She’s dressed as Sandy from Grease, but zombified. “Patrick… are you just dressed as a jock? I’m actually okay with that if it means David’s going to turn up in a cheerleader outfit.”

Patrick laughs and tucks away that thought to explore later. “I have no idea what he’ll be wearing, actually, but my costume’s not complete.” He’s wearing jeans, a yellow basketball jersey, and a blue and yellow letterman jacket. He reaches into his bag and quickly pulls on his werewolf mask.

“Sports werewolf?”

Patrick frowns, then realises it can’t be seen through his mask. “No, I’m Teen Wolf!”

“You mean that CW show? I’m not saying you’re not hot, but I don’t think you have the abs for that.”

Patrick looks to Rachel for help, but she’s just laughing at him. “No, the movie from the eighties!”

“Ahhhh,” Ken says, clearly holding back a laugh. “You’re _retro_ Teen Wolf.”

Patrick rolls his eyes, and realises that’s probably not really visible either and pulls his mask off. “It’s not very practical for actually seeing anything, so I may just not be in wolf-mode right now.”

They get some snacks, a selection of spooky cookies and popcorn balls supplied by the teams. Patrick makes sure to pay extra, as it all goes to supporting them. Ken says they should grab some seats on the salvaged bleachers, as there’s only so many and a lot of people bring their own chairs.

They’re not surprised David and Stevie are running a bit late. Patrick feels kind of like a kid waiting for their first boyfriend because of the excitement he feels when they arrange themselves with a space at either end so Stevie can sit next to Rachel and David can sit next to Patrick. He shoots David a text explaining where they are and settles in for Ken to tell a story about his PhD supervisor.

Patrick’s first indication that David and Stevie have shown up is the wide eyes of his friends as they look behind him. He turns and well… wow. His own eyes are definitely widening, too. Stevie is wearing a black leather jacket, blue jeans, and a white t-shirt, with some very basic zombie make-up—it’s a good look for her, though she’ll probably be only recognisable as undead-Danny Zuko if she’s standing next to Rachel. But that’s not what’s making Patrick practically pant like the dog he’s kind of dressed as.

David is wearing an immaculate black velvet Victorian tailcoat, with a frilly black shirt and tight black pants. He looks so hot that Patrick stands up without really thinking about it. He’s vaguely aware of Stevie squeezing past to go to her seat, but mostly he’s focused on pulling David closer. David grins in a way that reveals his teeth, which is weird until Patrick realises that his canines aren’t _normally_ that long and sharp.

Patrick pulls him in for a kiss and squeezes David’s jaw to make him open up so Patrick can get his tongue in and slide it over those prosthetic fangs. He’s gentle, as he doesn’t know exactly how much they can take, but he just can’t resist the urge to feel them that way. It’s brief, but intense, and David looks satisfyingly dazed when they split apart.

“So you like the costume?”

“I _really_ like the costume.” Patrick knows he should remove himself from David, let him say hello to their other friends, but he can’t resist taking another kiss.

Eventually, David pulls back enough to look scathingly at Patrick’s cheap costume. “And you are?”

Patrick laughs and gets the mask to pull it on. “I guess we had the same thought.”

David still looks disdainful, but there’s a hint of amusement under it. “Well, I did have kind of a thing for Michael J. Fox in my youth. I’ll allow it.”

“Very generous of you.” Patrick forces himself to retake his seat to allow David to say hi to Ken and Rachel—Rachel looking about as struck as Patrick was. Patrick apologises to Stevie for ignoring her, but she just cackles at him.

“I would be very annoyed to be such a fifth wheel right now, if I didn’t have a super-hot girlfriend about to kick some ass out there,” Ken says matter-of-factly.

Patrick pulls off the mask and scrubs a hand over his face. “Sorry about that.”

Ken shakes his head. “Eh, I get it.”

David does a pleased little wiggle in his seat and then starts chatting to Ken, while also fussing at Patrick’s curls where they had been squished by the mask. He doesn’t even seem to register he’s doing it, which sends a warm glow of contentment through Patrick.

Once the bout starts, Patrick’s totally engaged with watching. Heather, in bright socks, short shorts, a neon tutu and a top emblazoned with her derby name—‘The Great Goatsby’—is the first lead jammer and she’s brilliant. Ken nearly shouts himself hoarse in just the first jam. Ken explains some of the rules as they go along and Patrick knows he’s going to want to come back.

Even David seems like he’s not totally bored. His interest definitely seems more in the graceful physicality than the sport, but he grips Patrick’s thigh every time one of the ElmDevils jammers passes a blocker. By the end of the first half Patrick is riding high on adrenaline. Heather’s team is in the lead but it’s close.

“Who wants a drink?” Patrick’s always like this at half time when he attends live sports; needs something to do to focus his energy. Stevie has a bottle of vodka, so Patrick finds himself going with her to get a round of spiced cider for them to doctor.

“How was your last trip?” he asks once they’re in line for drinks. He’s not sure he remembers where this one was; she does a lot of travelling for her work with Rosebud Motels.

“Not too bad, but I’m glad to be back—for a few days at least, so you and David can defile our house some more.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s sure the flush rising on his cheeks is giving him away. “So, how are things going with Rachel?” It’s a blatant subject change and he grins as he says it.

“Weak deflection, Patrick,” Stevie replies, but there’s a light blush on her cheeks. “Surely you can ask _her_ that.”

“All I get from her is how cute you are, I don’t need that.”

Stevie’s blush deepens and Patrick feels a little smug. “Uh uh, we aren’t doing this. Want to talk about how into David’s whole vampire thing you appear to be?”

“Would you look at that, we’re front of the line.” Patrick steps forward, not meeting her eyes.

They laugh and fill the disposable cups Ken had brought for everyone with spiced cider from a large urn. Stevie’s impressed with the forethought, which leads to her telling a story about a tailgate David went to with her right after he’d moved to town.

She’s just finished describing David doing a beer bong as they get back to everyone and David immediately looks at them suspiciously. “Okay, I don’t like the look of this. I’m not sure you two should be allowed alone together.”

They both laugh and Patrick starts handing off drinks. “I left you alone with _two_ of my exes, I don’t think you get to be the suspicious one here.”

David’s face falls dramatically, but he winks. “ _Fuck,_ I totally wasted this opportunity.”

Rachel throws her head back and laughs. “No worries, there’ll be more chances.”

Stevie doles out generous pours of vodka for everyone’s drinks and settles back down.

“Really, what was she telling you?” David whispers into his ear.

“Nothing much,” Patrick replies, waiting for David to take a sip. “But the idea of you getting on your knees to chug a beer bong is pretty hot.”

David doesn’t choke on his drink, but he does sputter a little. “Ugh, I am so getting her back next time I’m alone with Rachel.”

Patrick rolls his eyes, but he always loves reminders that David and Rachel get on in their own right. “So which is the one with the _thighs_ that Heather mentioned back at the game night?” They can see the team huddled up together.

David looks adorably embarrassed and says, “Oh, she was just joking.”

“You can find people attractive, David. I’m not even into women and I can tell that roller girls are extremely hot.”

“Fine, it’s Titan Nikki, the one closest to the bleachers.” David gestures vaguely and Patrick can see her. She’s a tall, curvy black woman with—yes, some very impressive thighs. It’s a nice realisation that Patrick doesn’t feel jealous or self-conscious about how very different from him she looks. It’s not as if David looks much like people Patrick’s dated.

“Oh, she’s amazing! I don’t think I saw anyone get past her in the first half.”

“Is that what they’re trying to do?” David asks, but he looks amused and maybe a bit pleased.

“I’d be happy to go over all the rules with you again.” Patrick loves calling David’s bluff.

A whistle blows. “Damn, no time for that now. I don’t want to miss anything!”

Patrick can’t help but lean in for a quick kiss, before he turns back to the action.

After the bout, they join the teams at the Wobbly Elm and get to congratulate Heather on her victory. There’s a lot of beer and appetisers and David barely leaves Patrick’s side all night, even with their costumes so terribly mis-matching in terms of style and quality.

When Ken wins the costume competition, Heather picks him up and spins him in victory. Patrick has one arm wrapped around David, and the other around Rachel, who has Stevie by her side as they cheer on their friend. It feels about as perfect as a moment gets.

***

Patrick pulls David close and drops a kiss on his neck, trying to build up to making a suggestion he’s been considering since before Thanksgiving. They’ve just finished tidying up after the first Stitch and Bitch of November, with a very successful launch of Rachel’s second yarn. A playlist of David’s is playing while they sway gently together.

“So, I have a proposal for Rose Apothecary.” Patrick can easily imagine another version of himself swooping in and charming David with the idea, but he knows and understands how protective David is over the store. He doesn’t want to step on that.

“Oh?” David looks intrigued, open.

Patrick takes a deep breath. “I talked to the couple that own next door and apparently they’ve been planning to move for a while. They’d be willing to consider selling to us and the building is mixed-zoned, so we could convert it into a gallery and studio space. We’d have to do a lot of renovation, but apparently Ronnie actually likes _you,_ so—”

David kisses Patrick suddenly and forcefully, but it’s over almost before he realises it’s happening. “I needed you to stop talking for a minute.” David’s mouth quirks. “And also I really wanted to kiss you.”

Patrick goes to apologise and stops himself. David needs a minute. He can give him that. David is still holding him and—while Patrick can’t quite read his expression—he doesn’t seem annoyed.

“What do you mean when you say ‘we’?”

This is the big part. “Me buying the building and adapting it would be part of my buy-in to be a partner in Rose Apothecary. I want to be in this with you.”

“Oh.” David’s expression is thunderstruck and Patrick desperately hopes it’s in a good way. “But, your art?”

“I love glasswork, but I feel like I need more in my life. I am not saying I’ll be working on this full time, but maybe fifty-fifty? Once it’s set up, I could take on more of the paperwork, maybe something of a business manager role.” Patrick so wishes he could read minds. “This offer is just that, an offer. If you aren’t interested, that doesn’t impact our romantic relationship.”

David smirks. “So you think our relationship is _romantic?_ ”

Patrick shakes his head. “Sorry, am I wrong? Are we just platonic boyfriends who have lots of sex?”

It’s always a joy to see David laugh fully and openly. Patrick’s not sure he’ll ever get tired of it. It’s too early for thoughts like that, but he can’t help himself.

“Exactly.” David’s still smiling, but there’s an uncertainty in his eyes. “You think being business partners wouldn’t ruin our… romantic relationship? You won’t get sick of me?”

Patrick pulls David a bit closer. “I really don’t see that happening. Yes, my first impression of you wasn’t a great one, but it took me so little time to realise how wrong I was. So, maybe sometimes you’ll get impatient and snippy and maybe sometimes I’ll be passive-aggressive and judgemental, but that’s only part of who we are. We can tell each other when we’re falling back into old habits and being dicks, because we know we’re better than that.”

David tucks his head into Patrick’s shoulder and Patrick reciprocates.

“So I can tell you when you’re being a dick?” David eventually says.

Patrick chuckles. “I wouldn’t expect any less.”

“I need to think about this, is that okay?”

Patrick pulls back so he can meet David’s eyes. “Of course it’s okay.”

David twists his mouth. “I actually had my own idea I wanted to ask you about. Maybe the two would work well together.”

“Go on.”

Patrick definitely thinks the two ideas could work well together.

***

**iMessage:** David Rose  
  
**David Rose:** I’ve thought about what you said  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** And you’re willing to concede that creamy peanut butter’s superior to crunchy?  
  
**David Rose:** Ew, no!  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** What are you talking about then?  
  
**David Rose:** The gallery idea  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Oh   
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Have you decided?  
  
**David Rose:** Well, I had, but after this whole peanut butter thing I’m not so sure  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** What if I just start buying both types?  
  
**David Rose:** In that case, I’m in  
  
**Patrick Brewer:** Seriously?  
  
**David Rose:** Seriously  
  


***

The rest of the year passes quickly, in a storm of work on his exhibition and getting things arranged for the expansion of Rose Apothecary. Working with David means getting to see more of the business side of him and Patrick revels in realising how determined and focused he is, while obviously really caring about the work.

He also gets to know Neff a lot better. It turns out they have a minor in art history and interned at a gallery when they were in college. Apparently David had already been hoping to be able to move them to full time work, so part of the expansion is bringing them on full time to be involved in the set up and curation of the new endeavours.

For the holidays, Neff takes over Rose Apothecary for a few days so David and Patrick can go to New York for a couple days that luckily overlap both Christmas and the middle of Hanukkah. It had been a surprise that David had invited him so early in their relationship but there’s no way he could have said no. David’s parents are definitely an _experience_ , but they welcome Patrick with open arms and he finds he actually really likes them.

New Year’s Eve is spent with friends at David and Stevie’s house. It’s nice and relaxed; they’re more than six, so the idea of party games gets nixed, which is probably a good thing with their competitive natures. Their irregular games nights are lots of fun, but always feature David and Patrick bickering until Stevie tells them to get a room.

It feels good to be around these people and feel like Patrick and David really do have a shared community. Some people Patrick knows more, some David does, but they’re all mixed together now in a way that feels right. Tina and her partner had even dropped by for a bit, on their way to another party that is probably more full of people their age.

Patrick breaks off from a conversation with Neff and Ken about which Star Wars trilogy is best to head to the bathroom. It’s probably for the best as they both clearly care more than him and Stevie had jumped in, clearly alcohol-fuelled, just as he stepped away. On his way back from the bathroom, he spots Butterfly on the stairs, just like his first time here, and he can’t help sitting down to scritch her, like he did then.

A couple of minutes later, David appears and leans against the door jamb the way he had then. Patrick knows now that soft expression is for both him and the cat.

“I suspected you’d be out here. She really has you wrapped around her paw.”

Patrick shrugs, scratching behind Butterfly’s ear. “If I’m taking a Benadryl before I come here anyway, I might as well make it worth it.”

David laughs and walks closer, leaning in for a gentle kiss. Patrick lifts his hands to slide around David’s waist, but Butterfly chirps in displeasure and it breaks the moment. David kneels on a lower step, so he can stroke along the cat’s back in apology.

Patrick smirks. “And I’m the one she’s got her paw wrapped around?”

“My relationship with Butterfly is symbiotic and unknowable, thanks very much.” David holds himself haughtily, even as he can’t help smiling.

“Ah right, that’s what it is.” Patrick takes a moment to enjoy this moment between them, knowing so many of their favourite people are close by. “So, how’re you feeling about next year?”

David ducks his head, like he’s looking at the cat, a thoughtful smile on his face. “I’m excited.” He meets Patrick’s eyes, a shrewd tilt to his eyes and mouth. “How about you?”

They’re just a couple of weeks away from the event launching the expanded Rose Apothecary and Gallery, with Patrick as the first featured artist. It came together a lot faster than expected. There’s still work to do on setting up the workshop space upstairs in the new building, but they have the gallery set up and the business needs a boost at this time of year, so they’re going ahead with it. It helped a lot that the entrance to the house adjoining the apothecary opened into a large open-plan room that was nearly perfect already.

Patrick has been very focussed on both his glassblowing and finding his place in this new version of David’s business and he knows that David worries he’s over doing it. Which is pretty hypocritical, considering how much of his life David pours into his work, but they’ve already had that argument.

“I’m excited, too.” There’s a lot more Patrick could say—that he gets a rush from building this with David, that he’s terrified of putting himself out there as an artist, that most days he’s overwhelmed with how happy he is—but there’ll be time for all of that.

David nods, clearly hearing everything unsaid. “Good. We should probably get back in there; it’s nearly midnight and Twyla brought actual _good_ Champagne.”

Patrick laughs, but also makes David remove the cat from him, because he still can’t bring himself to do it. David rolls his eyes, but tucks that ‘you’re annoying but charming’ smile into the corner of his mouth.

As they count down to midnight, he and Rachel catch each other’s eyes, both of them holding their partners close, and grin so hard it’s almost silly. The Champagne _is_ good, but it’s even better kissed from David’s mouth, as a new year full of promise begins.

***

Walking into the Rose Gallery for the launch event is strange, after having spent so much time here setting up. Seeing his work displayed, with all the finishing touches complete and ready for other people to see it, is almost overwhelming. David and Neff are the only ones there; Neff’s going over a checklist and David has his phone to his ear. He still comes over and greets Patrick with a distracted kiss that makes joy flutter in his belly because it’s so obviously done on instinct. It’s totally normal after months together, but that’s part of why it makes him so happy.

“Sorry, the caterer’s not here yet and he’s trying to find out what’s up,” Neff explains. Their curly hair is different shades of green at the moment, which goes strangely well with the well-fitted fuchsia suit they’re wearing. “How’re you doing?”

Patrick shrugs and looks out across the display. “Excited but deeply freaked out?”

Neff smiles. “That sounds about right. You want wine?”

He nods emphatically and Neff laughs as they go to get him a glass.

“How are you feeling about everything, now that we’re here?”

Neff takes a deep breath. “I’m just really excited to be able to do this. I know David has wanted to expand for a while, but I didn’t know that I’d get to be such a part of it, you know?”

“He is so lucky to have you— _we_ are, as I guess I’m a part of it now too.”

Neff waves him off and looks down at their checklist, but Patrick suspects their dark skin is hiding a blush.

Patrick takes a sip of wine as David gets off the phone and sighs dramatically. “ _Apparently_ they’re finally on their way.” He slides an arm around Patrick’s waist and Patrick lets himself sink into it, finally relaxing a bit. “Where’s Rachel?”

“She’s just picking up Stevie, she agreed to play designated driver for us.”

David smirks. “Ah, and they haven’t seen each other since before Stevie’s trip…”

“So they’re probably having a quickie first, yes,” Patrick says with a laugh.

“Lucky them.” David’s eyes flash and Patrick has to remind himself that Neff is still there, though they stepped away to give David and him a moment.

Even so, he can’t help but lean in to give David a rather more focused kiss than the one they’d shared upon greeting. It’s over too soon, but David’s smirking like the cat that got the cream.

David leans back a little, his arms still around Patrick’s shoulders. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m holding up. How about you?” Patrick squeezes slightly where his hands are around David’s waist.

David smiles, a lot calmer than Patrick had expected. “I’m… surprisingly great. I think there’s something about being surrounded by your work that makes me feel sure that we can do this.”

Patrick feels such a rush of love for David that he can’t do anything but lean in and kiss him. He doesn’t make it last as long as he wants, but he tries to express how much that means to him. “Thank you,” he says when they part.

David shrugs a shoulder and smiles that soft, genuine smile that he doesn’t share nearly often enough. “I love you, too, by the way.”

“What?” Patrick blinks, trying to remember having said those words—ones he has felt for sure and was expecting to share soon, maybe even at the end of this day—but he’s sure he hasn’t.

“Just because Neff added the labels doesn’t mean I didn’t see the names of the pieces,” David says, with a smirk and an eye-roll.

Suddenly, Patrick understands and can feel his face flushing. In one corner of the exhibit is a piece, an abstract form of black and white and red glass crashing into each other. It’s one of the few pieces that David has actually watched him make, when he’d spent an afternoon on his laptop in Patrick’s workshop. Patrick had poured all of his feelings into the work, at getting to have these sorts of moments together. When it was finished, David had stared at the piece for a long moment, clearly overwhelmed, before pulling him into a deep kiss. They’d barely managed to stop long enough to get it into the annealer.

Patrick had been unable to help himself from titling it ‘Love’. “Oh.”

David twists his mouth. “You know, just because you said it in glass doesn’t mean you can’t use the words, too.”

“I love you,” Patrick rushes out, feeling ridiculous for forgetting to say it, taken by surprise that David had said it first.

“Good.” David kisses Patrick firmly, but they’re interrupted by knocking. It’s the caterer, who was really supposed to come in through the back entrance, so David goes to deal with it.

Patrick finds a corner and tries to do some simple mindfulness exercises. The adrenaline rush of finally exchanging ‘I love you’s with David is mixing with the nerves about the event and making him feel jumpy, but it helps to focus on his body and his breathing.

Right after the caterers leave, the bell above the gallery door rings and David calls, “Oh, sorry, we’re not open yet, but doors will be in ten minutes. Just forgot to re-lock them.”

It takes Patrick a moment to realise who he’s seeing at the entrance. It’s an older woman, with wild grey hair and a long floral skirt. She’s more of an imposing presence than you might expect from such a slight woman of average height and he hasn’t seen her in far too long. “Laurel!”

His former mentor smiles and waves. “Guess I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

“No, no, come in. David, this is Laurel, my mentor.”

“Oh my god, hi! I’ve heard so much about you,” David says, hands fluttering slightly in a way Patrick knows means he’s worried he offended someone important to Patrick.

He introduces Laurel to David and Neff, feeling both excited and nervous to reveal that David is his boyfriend, but also the owner of the place where he’s finally displaying some work. She doesn’t comment on it, but he does see her notice.

“So, this is all your work?” she asks, looking around the room.

Patrick nods, feeling even more intense nerves than he would have expected, and walks her around the room. She’s quiet, just asking a few questions about technique. The pieces are nearly all abstract, with a focus on black, white, blue, and red. He’s played with form and technique and let himself be free with the work in a way he’d never quite managed before.

“David’s been good for you,” she says with a smirk, looking at one of the last pieces, which is both abstract and deeply suggestive.

“Oh?” Patrick can feel his blush, but he’s proud of having been able to express his sexuality this way, to allow himself to display it.

Laurel turns to face him fully, taking his hands. “This is excellent work.” She’s never been effusive with her praise and she’s always honest; Patrick feels relieved of some of the weight of opening himself to people’s expectations.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, you still need to work on your technique,” she starts, and then they’re off, discussing the more technical side. Patrick hasn’t seen her since she moved away and she’s not a fan of phone calls, so he’s mostly kept in touch with her by checking in on her extensive facebook posts. He hadn’t realised quite how much he’d missed these conversations. She’s been travelling a lot, meeting with all sorts of glass artists, but he barely gets to hear any of it before David sets a hand on his shoulder and tells him they’re opening the doors.

Patrick’s surprised by how many people are there. Stevie and Rachel are at the front of the queue, only looking slightly rumpled. Rachel tries to apologise but Patrick stops her and can’t help but pull her in for a hug. “Nope, no apologies, you’re here now.”

“I love that we both get to have our work here,” Rachel says, a warm smile on her face.

It is exciting to know that what he has done is next door to the products of so many artisans, especially his best friend, but it’s also kind of embarrassing. He’s getting a lot of fuss made about his work above other people’s.

“Hey, stop that,” Rachel says, interrupting his thoughts. “You are brilliant and getting a bit of time in the spotlight doesn’t take away from anyone else.”

Patrick rolls his eyes, but he accepts it.

Ken and Heather are also there, as well as some of the people he met at the Stitch and Bitch—including Jocelyn Schitt, who Patrick has got to know a lot more over the past few months. He makes sure to introduce his assistant Tina to Laurel as soon as she arrives.

The big surprise is his parents being there, but David just shrugs and says he knew Patrick wouldn’t invite them himself. It’s true—he talks to them often these days, but he’d told them it wasn’t important that they came to the opening. Now they’re here, however, and he’s very glad.

When he greets them, his mother opens her arms for a hug and pauses. “Do artists displaying at galleries hug their moms? I don’t know the etiquette here.”

Patrick just laughs. “This artist definitely does,” he says before hugging her and then his dad. “It’s good to have you here.”

They smile, a warmth there that he doesn’t take for granted. “We’re really proud of you. I didn’t want to miss it,” Marcy replies.

“We weren’t sure if you wanted us here, but David insisted.” Clint’s wry smile says that David had been persistent and it makes Patrick’s heart swell.

He’s not been great about including his parents in his life the last few years, but it’s something they’ve been working on. He’s talked to David about it, especially after he met David’s own parents over Christmas, and it’s amazing to know that he not only really listened, but clearly understood.

They manage a little more small talk, before Patrick sends them to get drinks while he does more mingling. There’s a lot of local artists in attendance, who they’ve been working to develop better relationships with over the past months. They’ve already selected the second Featured Artist: an older black woman called Allison who works with reclaimed materials. Apparently, she regularly displays at the local craft fairs and that’s how David got to know her.

He loses track of Laurel and then spots her talking to Ronnie, who has done amazing work to get the gallery space ready in time.

“They look cosy,” David says, appearing out of the crowd with a glass of wine and a crab cake for Patrick.

“I’m almost surprised Ronnie came, considering how much she hates me.” Patrick mostly blames himself for that; he’d fucked up by second guessing her when she was doing some work on his house just after he’d moved in, and that had turned their joking baseball rivalry into something a bit more real. All his attempts to fix it while she worked on the gallery have seemed to make it worse.

David shrugs. “It might just be for the drinks tickets, but she always comes to Rose Apothecary events.” He smiles softly. “She’s pretty good friends with my mom and I think she’s secretly kind of a softie, but don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Patrick laughs. “Like I want her to have any reason to be against me.”

David rolls his eyes; he mostly seems amused whenever Ronnie’s enmity towards Patrick comes up. “Anyway, it’s time to do the talking.” He wrinkles his nose.

Patrick squeezes his hip. “You ready?”

David leans forward for a brief kiss. “Now I am.”

He’s not as confident going to the stage area they’ve set up as Patrick might have thought, but it makes sense. David may draw attention, but he doesn’t generally seek it. That he wanted to get up there and say something for this is touching. But of course, it’s not just Patrick: it’s a new horizon for the store.

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming to the launch of Rose Gallery.” There’s a little cheer around the room, that David is obviously trying to look unaffected by. “The last three years of running this store have been such a complete joy. I’m so grateful for what I’ve been able to build with this local community and all the incredible vendors who supply us. Tonight is an extension of that, not a move away from it. A general store is no place for the gorgeous, bespoke pieces that the artists we will feature create. We are so happy to be making this space to highlight beautiful work with no practical function whatsoever.” There’s a laugh, and David’s shoulders drop just a little; obviously relieved at the response.

“One such artist is Patrick Brewer.” David’s eyes go right to him and it’s almost overwhelming. “His gorgeous work with glass blew me away from the moment I saw it.” There’s a couple of laughs and then David’s face twists in disgust. “That pun was _not_ intended, for the record.” People just laugh some more, but David doesn’t push the point—Patrick’s sure he’ll hear more about it later. “You may be surprised to hear that it took me a bit longer to come around to him as a person. I have learned that, as well as being a talented artist, he is a very kind and generous person, which brings us to the next announcement.”

He gestures for Neff to get up on the stage to speak about the idea David had presented to Patrick back when Patrick first suggested the gallery.

“It is my great honour to announce that we are launching the The Rose Gallery Creative Arts Scholarship, supporting marginalised young people across Elm County in accessing resources, space, and mentors to develop their artistic abilities. We’ve started reaching out to local schools—” they nod to Jocelyn, who smiles and waves, “But we’d appreciate help from anyone who has any ideas or suggestions. We’re very excited to be able to find this way to give back to this wonderful community.”

Neff looks confident and assured as they talk about this project and Patrick knows they are the right person to take the lead in administering it. They have already started some great work and come up with ideas beyond what he thinks he or David ever would have. When Neff finishes giving more details, they gesture for Patrick to get onto the stage and wink at him as they rush off to help him with what comes next.

Patrick had resisted speaking, but David had insisted. For all he loves being the centre of attention in many ways, talking about his art comes a lot harder. “I want to thank David so much for giving me this opportunity. I believe this is the point where I’m supposed to talk all about my work and the inspiration for it, but really there’s one person who inspired every single piece here. When I tried to come up with something to say, all I could really think of was what I wanted to say to him.”

David’s got a deer in headlights look that only gets worse when Neff appears with Patrick’s guitar, which they had hidden away in the back.

“David Rose, thank you so much for all you have done for this community and everything you have done for me. You are an amazing person. This is for you.”

Patrick starts plucking the arrangement he’s been working on for weeks, keeping eye contact with David as he begins to sing. He’s never felt more settled and sure in his life and this is the best way he can think of to express why that is.

“ _I call you when I need you, my heart's on fire_  
_You come to me, come to me wild and wired_  
_Oh, you come to me, give me everything I need._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [tumblr](https://januarium.tumblr.com/post/634517840760815616/molten-glass-hearts-by-januarium-ugh-david).


End file.
